The Knight Moves
by DueEast
Summary: When RayK and Fraser investigate a difficult diplomatic case, things don't turn out quite as expected.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: I originally wrote this story many years ago and recently found it again. I've dusted it off and tweaked to its current form!

Its setting is roughly sometime between Hunting Season and Call of the Wild.

The Knight Moves

Chapter One

"Vecchio!" Lieutenant Welsh stood, hands on hips, in the doorway to his office. His face was a mixture of quiet anger and well-honed patience, borne from years of experience. That patience began to wear thin when the Detective he was calling didn't respond but continued to stare into thin air. Welsh couldn't quite decide if he was deep in thought or deep in a coma, though he suspected there wasn't much difference between the two.

"Detective Raymond Vecchio!" he enunciated loudly, causing the object of his annoyance to suddenly snap out of his reverie and turn his head, "A word?" he continued more quietly, now that he had the man's attention, and gestured towards his office.

* * *

Stanley Raymond Kowalski had been undercover as Ray Vecchio for a quite some time now, but every now and then it would seem like people were talking to someone else.

'Ray' he could cope with, having persuaded people to call him by his middle name for most of his life. It was certainly better than Stanley and the embarrassment of his father being something of a Brando fan.  
He made a very unenthusiastic walk toward the Lieutenant's office and took the time to shut the door behind him, bracing himself for the onslaught.

"Yes, Sir. What can I do for you?" he turned around and gave Welsh his best smile.

Welsh wasn't buying it, "Well Detective, let's see. First you can explain to me why I have an official from the British Consulate on the line, who is understandably concerned that we have a member of the British aristocracy, no less, in custody here and wants to know the reason why. And then you can explain why I can't answer the aforementioned question."

Ray shifted uncomfortably under the Lieutenants gaze, "He's a murder suspect."

"Oh perfect!" Welsh clapped his hands in feigned delight, "On what grounds?"

"Um, on the grounds he was standing over the victim with the murder weapon in his hand."

Welsh nodded appreciatively, "And you didn't think it important to apprise me of the situation?"

Ray ran his hand through his hair, well aware that he should have informed Welsh the very minute he brought the suspect into custody, "You looked….um….busy."

"Busy...?" Welsh sat down behind his desk and pointed at his phone, "Oh…answering telephone calls from the British Consulate you mean?" he remarked pointedly, "Listen, I want all the details of this case on my desk in half an hour."

Ray started to protest, "Half an hour? That's kinda..."

"Half an hour," Welsh's tone of voice made it very clear that he would brook no argument.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good," Welsh started to wave him away, before he stopped again, "Oh and the British Consulate are sending over a representative."

Ray sighed and muttered under his breath, "Great."

"You have a problem with that, Detective?"

"No, Sir," Ray lied. Of course he had issue with that. The last thing he wanted to deal with was some admin person checking over his shoulder, "It's my case though, right? I mean we're not just going to let the British walk in here and take over like they still own the country."

He was sure he saw Welch roll his eyes as he stood back up from his desk and ushered him towards door, "It's your case Detective. Just…" Welsh opened the door and pushed Ray gently out of it, "…play nice.

Ray trudged back to his desk, dropped heavily into his seat and flicked uninterestedly through the pile of paperwork there.

He had already spent three hours in an interview room with Lord Robert Calding and had nothing to show for it. Despite being caught with the murder weapon in his hands, standing over the body of his victim, Calding still emphatically denied killing anyone. Ray had decided that Calding could stew in his own juices for a while, before they got started on round two.

"Good morning, Ray!"

Ray looked up to see RCMP Constable Benton Fraser striding towards him, impeccably dressed in his red serge uniform, as always, and his tone of voice cheery.

"Is it?" Ray shot back at his friend.

"It's not?" Fraser stood by the side of his desk, his brow furrowed.

"As mornings go, Fraser, this one isn't shaping up to be the best."

"Oh. Well I'm sorry to hear that. Can I help?"

This was not at all the way Ray had imagined his life going and he certainly hadn't figured in that he'd be partnering a Mountie from Canada.

Constable Benton Fraser had first come to Chicago on the trail of his father's killer and, for reasons, he'd stayed, attached as liaison with the Canadian Consulate. During this time, he had formed a partnership with a Chicago cop called Ray Vecchio, who was now deep undercover. Hence, when Ray had stepped in to 'cover the cover' he had inherited Fraser as a partner and, dare he say it, a friend.

He hadn't imagined it, but he didn't really dislike it either.

* * *

"Well it's like this, Fraser..." Ray jumped up and started pacing around his desk, gesturing animatedly with his hands, "...I have a guy in interview two who swears he didn't do it, despite being in the room and his prints being all over the weapon."

"Done what, Ray?" Fraser stared at him, unable to make the leap to Ray's train of thought.

Ray stopped in his tracks to look at him, "Killed the guy."

Fraser tugged at his ear absently, "What guy?"

"The victim," Ray held his hands out in an 'isn't it obvious' gesture.

"Who was?" Fraser spoke slowly as if trying to prise information from a small child.

"This guy," Ray pointed to a crime scene photo on his desk, which showed a man lying face  
down on the floor.

He and Ray often found themselves having conversations much like this one. Ray had a slightly irritating habit of starting a story somewhere in the middle. Fraser on the other hand always found it best to start at the beginning.

"Does he have a name?" Fraser asked pointedly.

Ray made a face at him, "Does he have a name? Of course he has a name. What kind of question is that?"

Fraser fought the urge to sigh loudly, "A pertinent one?"

He watched his partner visibly back down. It was clear Ray's agitation was being misdirected. Fraser had long ago learnt to let it wash over him.

Ray sat down again at his desk, leaning back in his chair and picking up a pen, "Paul Carter," he said simply. He briefly leant forward again and opened a file in front of him, spreading some pictures out in the desktop, "This is the guy", again he pointed to a photo, only this time Fraser could clearly see the man's face. Ray continued, "Small time criminal. Robbed a couple liquor stores. Nothing big time."

"And the suspect?"

"One Lord Robert Calding."

Fraser snapped his head towards Ray, surprised, "Lord?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Ray waved it off, clearly less impressed. "English nobility or somethin'."

"He's a British citizen?"

"That's what I just said, Fraser. Anyhow, I figure blackmail," Ray clicked the end of the pen repeatedly.

"Blackmail?" Fraser didn't follow his friends logic again.

"Small time crook taken out by important rich dude. So, he must have had something on our British friend right? Calding doesn't want it to come out so he kills him. Simple."

"I see..." Fraser took a moment to think about his friends theory, "Isn't that a bit of a leap, Ray?"

"Leap?"

"Well, I'm assuming you have no proof of this?"

Ray distractedly put the contents of the folder away, "Ah...not exactly, no."

Fraser nodded, "And Lord Calding won't confess to the murder?"

"Not in so many words, no."

"In any words...?"

"Ok! Ok. But he was standing right over him, Fraser!"

"That doesn't necessarily mean he killed him, Ray, he could simply have been trying to help."

Ray stared at him with disbelief, "With the knife in his hand?"

"He may have removed it."

"Oh yeah, big help. You Canadians have some kind of deal with the British or somethin'?" Ray eyed him suspiciously.

Fraser shook his head, "No, Ray, although there are many similarities between our two nations and we do share a..." Fraser trailed off as he saw Ray's attention had been taking by someone approaching from behind him. He turned to look, as Ray got to his feet for the woman approaching his desk.

* * *

"Can I help you?" Ray asked a little too eagerly, stepping forward towards his visitor.

"Yes, I'm looking for a Detective-"

"Well, you found one."

"—Vecchio," Their guest continued non-plussed, and perhaps slightly amused.

"Also...me," Ray answered a little quieter this time, well aware that he'd just made a fool of himself. He was pre-programmed to react to just about any woman of about his age who he found attractive. It wasn't that he was a ladies' man, not by any stretch of his imagination, it was more about playing the odds.

"Oh."

Ray wasn't sure if that was a surprised Oh or a disappointed Oh.

She stuck out a hand towards him, "Suzanne Harrison. I'm with the British Consulate. I understand you arrested Lord Calding this morning?"

Ray shook her hand half-heartedly. Now that he thought about it, her accent was different. He should have known. She was pretty. He certainly hadn't expected that. A couple of inches shy of his height, long dark hair, and hazel eyes. She was dressed smartly, in a light blue dress and black jacket.

"Er...yeah. Ray Vecchio, pleased to meet you."

Fraser, who had been watching the whole exchange quietly, suddenly stepped forward, "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP."

Ray gestured at him, "Er, yeah...he's my partner."

Fraser shook hands, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Harrison."

"Suzanne, please."

Ray watched Suzanne stare at Fraser for a while longer than he thought strictly necessary, "Ok!" he found himself trying to get back the attention. "If you guys have finished...?" he gestured towards the interview room. "He's this way."

* * *

It didn't take long for Ray to run through the details of the case. It was fairly straight forward, or least seemed to be.

An anonymous caller had reported a murder at The Albany Hotel and uniformed officers had responded to find Calding standing over the dead body of Paul Carter, knife in hand.

As they strolled toward the interview room, Suzanne found herself, rather unprofessionally, paying less attention to the details of the case than to the appearance of the man explaining it to her.

She assumed him to be in his late thirties, sort of scruffy in a way that seemed to work, unkempt blonde hair sticking up in various gravity defying ways. Attractive, great smile, blue jeans, biker boots and a band t-shirt covered by a blue hoody.

"...but he's not talkin'", Ray finished as they stopped outside the interview room.

Suzanne took a moment, nodding slowly as if taking the details in, before turning abruptly to Fraser, "So how does a Mountie come to be working for the Chicago PD?"

Constable Fraser couldn't have been more of an opposite from Ray. Dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place (despite an impressive hat), rod straight posture, fantastic manners and extremely eloquent. Also, she couldn't help but note, extremely attractive. Suzanne's day was looking up.

"It's an interesting story actually..." Fraser began, "I first-"

"Trail. Fathers Killer. Stayed. Liaison," Ray interrupted quickly, clearly keen to get on with the matter at hand, "Can we do the story later?"

"Sure," Suzanne nodded, unperturbed by Ray's sudden intervention. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and pulled some papers from her briefcase in preparation. When she looked up again she found Ray staring at her and Fraser standing off to one side. Nothing seemed to be happening she found herself gesturing toward the interview room door, "So..."

Ray held her gaze, "So..?" he sounded defensive.

"Can I talk to him?" Suzanne asked expressively, unsure what the Detective's problem was.

Fraser stepped forward and reached to open the door for her, before Ray rapidly pulled it closed again.

"Look..." Ray still held her gaze, hand on the door handle, whilst Fraser shrank back clearly unsure where to put himself, "...This is my case and I don't care if he's second in line to the throne of England-"

"Twenty first," Suzanne couldn't stop herself interrupting.

"Twenty first," just as Fraser said exactly the same thing at the same time.

This stopped Ray in his tracks, "What?"

Suzanne looked over at Fraser, but spoke to Ray, "He's twenty first in line..." she trailed off as she gestured at Fraser, "How did you know?"

Fraser shifted his weight and absently smoothed an eyebrow, "I calculated. From his file."

"You did?" she couldn't help but be impressed.

"Yes."

"Hey!" Ray got their attention back, "I don't care if he's due to be coronaded next week-"

"Coronated," Fraser corrected him.

"—whatever," Ray didn't miss a beat, "I don't need anyone breathing down my neck. What I need is to be left to do my job."

Suzanne took a moment before she responded. Ray wasn't the first overprotective detective she'd ever met. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming his words probably weren't meant to be as hostile as they seemed.

"I don't disagree, but I'm sure you'll appreciate this delicate matter, given Lord Calding's position."

Ray clearly tried to look impressed.

"You can rest easy, Detective," she continued, "I'm not here to take over anybody's investigation. Couldn't if I wanted to. I'm just here to look after the interests of a British citizen in the American judicial system," she had lost count of the amount of times she had used this speech, "all I ask is that you allow me free access to Calding and the opportunity to follow the case," Suzanne gave Ray the friendliest and most unthreatening smile she could muster.

It seemed work and she watched him visibly deflate and he finally opened the door so she could enter the interview room, "After you."

* * *

It hadn't seemed appropriate for Fraser to enter the interview room with Ray and Suzanne, as there was no compelling reason for the presence of a Canadian. Instead Fraser studied Calding through the two-way mirror in the next room.

Lord Robert Calding sat arms folded at the interview table. His expression was of a man highly unimpressed with his current surroundings and certainly not a man fearful of a murder conviction. He certainly had the look of nobility about him; it was the way he held himself. He appeared younger than Fraser had imagined, though he knew him to be in his 50's. He was tall, but his frame was very slight. His shoes, clothes and watch were expensive, and beautifully tailored.

Calding rose to his feet as soon as Suzanne and Ray entered the room, and when he spoke his accent was crisp, "I've already told you, I not willing to talk until I have consulted my lawyer," he directed his words towards Ray who simply stood next to the door, arms folded across his chest, and said nothing.

Suzanne rounded the table and extended a hand toward him, "Lord Calding? My name is Suzanne Harrison, I'm from the British Consulate General."

Calding looked visibly relieved as he shook her hand and sat back down."I was beginning to wonder if the British government had abandoned me to this madness."

"I apologise, Sir, we weren't told of your arrest," Suzanne shot a look towards Ray, who made a face at her.

Calding lent across the table as she took a seat opposite, "I wish to speak to my lawyer. Can you arrange that?"

"Of course," Suzanne arranged some papers on the table, "My Assistant is arranging legal representation as we speak."

Calding took in Suzanne's words before looking up at Ray, "Can we have some privacy?"

Ray looked as though he was going to argue but he nodded slightly and headed for the exit. Seconds later he came through the door to room where Fraser was secreted, nodded and stood alongside him. They watched as Suzanne and Calding started to converse.

After a few moments, Fraser started to feel as if they were prying, "Maybe we should..." he made to move for the door, but stopped when he realised Ray wasn't following suit, "Ray?"

"Just a second," his partner continued to watch Suzanne and Calding through the mirror.

"They are entitled to privacy," Fraser reminded him.

Ray either didn't hear or didn't choose to respond. Fraser sighed and rubbed his temple as he stepped back towards the mirror, knowing that he wouldn't dissuade his partner.

Suzanne and Calding spoke in hushed tones that even Fraser struggled to hear, until they both stood up abruptly, Suzanne making animated gestures her voice louder, "I'd have to advise you against that."

Calding seemed adamant, "I want to speak to my own lawyer."

"Your lawyer is in London. It will take at least a day to get him flown out."

Calding didn't blink, "Then it takes a day."

Suzanne appeared to draw in a breath, "He won't be licensed to practice here in Chicago. I can arrange excellent representation for you here. I'm liasing with the-"

Calding cut her off impatiently, "My Lawyer has been with me for 15 years-" he began before Suzanne returned the favour.

"You have been detained pending a murder one charge," she told him firmly, "In this state, that can carry a death sentence. I'm afraid your status doesn't mean very much here and I think it's imperative that you speak with a lawyer as soon as possible," she paused, "and personally, I also think it would be a good idea if you spoke with Detective Vecchio."

Calding snorted, "Not until I've spoken with a lawyer."

Suzanne shook her head, "Normally I'd agree, but you'd simply be making a statement. It can only help you. You're making yourself look guilty right now."

Calding paced the room, before turning back to Suzanne and nodding tightly, "Very well, but must I talk to that...Detective. He's so..."

"American?" Suzanne finished for him, "And yes, it's his case."

Suzanne walked toward the interview room door, before turning back to Calding, "I'll ensure that representation is here shortly. You should read through some of the paperwork I've left, it explains the process here. You need to cooperate with the police."

Calding nodded and Suzanne left the room, causing Ray and Fraser to bolt for their door, falling out the other side into the corridor just as Suzanne turned in their direction. She looked at them quizzically.

Ray stood and brushed himself off, "Mob thing," he said by way of explanation and walked off in the direction of his desk.

Fraser stood stock still a few seconds longer, unsure what to say.

"Lord Calding is ready to make a statement," Suzanne spoke first.

"Ah," Fraser nodded.

* * *

Suzanne took a seat next to Calding while Ray paced opposite, a ball of pent-up energy, "So maybe we could get somewhere this time, 'cause I'm tired of banging my head against a brick wall."

"I wasn't involved in a murder."

"So you keep saying," Ray retorted.

"Then maybe that should tell you something, Detective," Calding replied coolly.

Ray simply smiled a fake smile, "Then what were you doing at the scene of the crime?"

"I was attending a function."

"Is that what they call murder in the UK?"

Suzanne couldn't stop herself jumping in, "Why don't you start at the beginning?" she spoke calmly.

Calding sighed, but started to talk anyway, "My wife and I arrived at the Albany Hotel about 7pm. The evening proceeded as expected, until I received a phone call at about 9.30 from someone asking me to meet them in one of the hotel bedrooms."

"Who was the call from?" Ray asked as he walked around the table.

Calding shook his head, "I don't know. I didn't recognise the voice. He was very insistent that I meet with him."

"And you agreed?" Ray was now behind Suzanne's shoulder.

"He said it was in my own best interest to meet with him and his tone of voice he made it quite clear I was in no position to argue."

Suzanne nodded, "He threatened you?" she was well aware that it was not her job to be asking these questions, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Not directly, but the threat was there nonetheless. I walked to the room number he had told me," he paused, "The door was ajar when I arrived and no-one answered my calls, so I pushed the door open and...and that's when I saw him."

"The victim?" Fraser asked quietly.

"Yes," for a moment the English reserve faltered, "He was just lying there," he paused again, "Well...I was shocked. I went over to see if there was anything that I could do, but..."

"He was already dead," Fraser finished for him.

Calding shook his head sadly.

"Do you remember what time it was?" Suzanne leant forward in her chair.

"It was 9.40pm. I checked my watch before I entered the room."

Ray spoke from the back of the room, "So how did you come to be holding the knife?"

Calding looked over at him, "I just picked it up, I don't know why. It was silly really. I just saw it lying there and..."

Suzanne heard Ray mumble under his breath 'how convenient' but ignored it and pressed on herself, "And the victim, had you ever seen him before?"

Calding shook his head, "No. Not that I can recall," he paused, changing the subject, "Is it possible for me to speak to my wife? She will be worried."

Suzanne rose from her seat, "I'll see what I can arrange," she gave him a weak smile and turned to Ray, "Detective?"

Ray ignored her, "You hadn't seen the victim before, huh?"

Calding eyed him coldly, "No, I had not."

Suzanne intervened, "Detective, I think you have your statement," she deliberately opened the door. Fraser followed her out, with Ray not too far behind.

As soon as the door had closed behind him Ray launched, "I waited hours for that? That's it?"

Suzanne turned to him calmly, "He didn't do it."

"What?" Ray looked at her like she had two heads.

Beside her, Fraser shifted his weight and then spoke, "I would have to agree, Ray."

Ray looked at Fraser, then back to Suzanne, then back to Fraser, "You know this day just keeps getting better and better. I get what seems like the most straight forward arrest in the history all straight forward arrests, but turns out my suspect is nobility or somethin'. And I could handle the fact he tells me he didn't do it, because that's what every collar says, but then I get British here..." he smiled at Suzanne wryly to emphasise his point, "...taking over my interrogation, asking stupid questions and then hanging me out to dry."

Suzanne opened her mouth to apologise but Ray wasn't finished.

"And then on top of that, my partner backs her up. Great. Just greatness," he emphasised, before storming off leaving Fraser and Suzanne standing.

She looked over at the Mountie, "Is he always like this?"

Fraser nodded, "Frequently, yes," he paused, "But I find you get used to it after a while."

"And how long does that take?"

Fraser paused, "Months."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Fraser and Suzanne caught up with Ray as he stood outside the entrance to the Morgue. He still wasn't overly happy that he'd been shut down in his own interrogation, but it wasn't the first time, and doubtless it wouldn't be the last time either. No point dwelling on it. As Fraser and Suzanne approached, he nodded at them, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice, "So?"

Suzanne starred at him, clearly unsure, "So...?"

"So how do you know he didn't do it?" Ray came straight out with it.

Suzanne looked toward Fraser before speaking, "Well, firstly, it just doesn't make a lot of sense. If someone of Calding's money and stature wanted a wise-guy dead, why would he do it himself?"

" _Wise-guy_?" Ray laughed a little at her accent, before continuing, "Could've been personal?"

"Maybe, but still... " she paused, "I'm certain he wasn't lying."

"Oh. You are huh?"

Fraser piped up, "As am I, Ray. He maintained eye contact, his heart rate was normal and his saliva-"

"Stop there, Fraser," Ray held his hand up, "How could you tell that?"

"Well, when he talked you could see-"

"Not that! The heart rate thing."

"Ah. If you watch very carefully, it's possible to see the slight vibrations on the skin of the pulse in the neck artery," Fraser tapped the side of his neck.

He stared at Fraser for a good few seconds, "No kidding."

Fraser shook his head, "No."

Ray shook his amazement off, "He could be a good liar."

"He could well be," Fraser admitted.

Suzanne, who had been standing quietly listening to the exchange suddenly looked down at the notebook in her hand and then back up at Ray, "Hang on," she paused to check her notes again, "You said the cops were tipped off anonymously to the murder?"

Ray nodded, "Some guy wouldn't leave his name."

"When was the call made?"

Ray flicked through the case files that he held in his hand, "Uh...call was made at 9.35pm."

"That's five minutes _before_ Calding arrived on the scene."

Ray made a face, "So he says."

"But how would he know when the call was made, in order to lie?"

He went to answer and found nothing ready, so he was relieved when Fraser reached to open the Morgue door with a, "Shall we?"  
Ray took a deep breath and walked in. He hated this place; it was the one part of his job he would happily swap. Even paperwork topped this.

"So what we looking at?" he spoke confidently towards Mort, the pathologist, who was standing over the unlucky victim a scalpel in hand.

"He's dead," Mort stated simply in his thick Polish accent.

"Of course he's dead," Ray try to hold back his impatience and looked down at the body laid out before him. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach.

Mort continued, "The knife hit the left ventricle of the heart."

Ray badly wanted to walk away, but with Suzanne standing behind him he struggled desperately to maintain his composure and instead fixed his stare at Mort's face.  
Fraser stepped in, "Would I be right in assuming it would take a fair amount of force to drive a knife so deeply into his back?"

Mort nodded grimly, "Indeed."

Ray tried not to throw up.

Fraser turned back to Ray and Suzanne, "Calding is very slight."

Ray shrugged, "Granted the guy is no superman, but..." he nodded towards Mort, "What was the time of death?"

"I would say around 9.36pm."

" _9.36_?"

Mort nodded.

Ray shook his head in disbelief, _'9.36'_ he murmured to himself before using his incredulity as an excuse to walk further away from the body. He turned around again just as Fraser moved the sheet covering the victim's body and pointed to the man's bare torso.

"This man's physique is remarkable," Fraser prodded the victims chest with a finger, "Nearly 90 percent muscle if I'm not mistaken?" he looked to Mort for confirmation.

Mort nodded, "Weights. No doubt."

Ray had to look away again, covering his mouth to swallow down nausea, and trying to look casual.

Suzanne had been awfully quiet and he looked towards where she was standing. She'd moved back towards the door, clearly standing as far from the body as she possibly could. Ray couldn't help but smile at her obvious discomfort, not because he found any particular delight in it, but because it was nice to know he wasn't alone.

She must have felt his gaze on her as she suddenly looked over to him and he spun on his heels back towards Fraser and the body to cover up his staring, "Ok. So the guy is strong and Cladding-"

"Calding," Fraser corrected him.

Ray stared at him for a moment before continuing, " _Calding_ isn't. But I've seen guys half his size take down bigger guys than this. That's no proof for innocence, Fraser."

"You're right, Ray."

Ray couldn't hide his surprise, "I am?"

"Well in essence, yes. That's why we need to find something that is more likely to stand up in court."

"Fraser?" Ray sighed.

"Yes?"

"See, I don't think you get the idea of this job. It's our job to gather the evidence and an _attorney's_ job to prove him guilty stroke innocent."

Suzanne finally spoke, "I always thought it was a detective's job to find the truth."

Ray went to say something then stopped, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"She's right, Ray." Fraser agreed.

Ray inwardly cursed himself. Of course she was right. He looked back up at Suzanne, "Meanwhile...I don't have any choice but to charge him," Suzanne made to protest but Ray stopped her, "He was found with the victim and he was holding the knife. If I don't arrest him I'm going to have IA on my ass."

Suzanne stood down, nodding but looking concerned.

Ray sighed, "And it'll give us time to figure out what the hell is going on, if he is telling the truth. And I said _if,_ " he emphasised.

His reward was a smile from Suzanne and a nod from Fraser.

They made a move for the door and filed out. Ray went last and as he left he cast a look in the direction of the victim's body and muttered, "Remarkable physique? Yeah well I'd rather look like me than be dead," and with that, he closed the door.

* * *

While Ray went into the interview room to read Calding his rights, Suzanne phoned the British Consulate to tell them the bad news. She was still on the phone when Ray returned to his desk, so he perched himself of the edge, sipped at the coffee he'd just picked up from the break room and listened to the one sided conversation.  
"Yes, Sir... No, Sir... Well, perhaps we could... No, Sir... I'm liaising with Detective Vecchio, the lead detective..." Suzanne glanced at Ray and rolled her eyes, which made Ray chuckle, "I agree, Sir... Well, Constable Fraser... he's a Mountie... Canadian... I'm not entirely sure, Sir... You would? Just a moment..." she put her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to Ray, "Have you seen, Fraser?"

Ray took another sip of coffee and nodded in the direction of his partner who had just walked in the door and was heading towards them.

Suzanne held out the telephone to him as he got near, "My boss would like to talk to you."

Fraser made a gesture toward himself, looking slightly confused.

Suzanne nodded, "Humour him?"

He reached tentatively for the telephone and the one sided conversation began again, "This is Constable Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police speaking. How may I help you?... Well no, not officially... The Canadian Consulate, Sir... Inspector Thatcher? Why yes, Sir... "

As Fraser continued his conversation Ray realised that it might have been polite to offer their guest coffee and stuck the cup he'd been drinking from towards her in offering.

Suzanne laughed, as he'd hoped she might, "That's just weird, Vecchio."

"Ray," he corrected her. It just sounded like an invite to call him by his first name, but in reality it was practical. Vecchio was someone elses name, Ray was his.

She nodded, "Still weird, _Ray._ "

He sniggered as they both turned their attention back to Fraser ending the phone conversation, "Well, thank you kindly, Sir... and you," Fraser replaced the handset on Ray's desk.

"That's it?" Suzanne asked him as soon as he stood back up.

"That's...?" Fraser asked confused.

"No third degree?"

"Burns?" Fraser asked tentatively.

Suzanne looked over at Ray questioningly and on cue he directed volley of words in Fraser's direction, "Spanish inquisition, cross examination, pop quiz, grill-"

Fraser put his hand up to stop him, "Ah, I see. No. He didn't ask me any particularly probing questions."

Suzanne looked up to the ceiling and laughed, "The man makes me fill in reports for everything from a parking charge to spilt coffee, but doesn't question why a Canadian Mountie is working with the Chicago PD?"

Fraser squinted, "Apologies if-"

Suzanne didn't let him finish, instead waving away his concern, "No, it's not you, Fraser. I just..." Ray noted the tone of her voice as she paused. When she spoke again she'd changed the subject, "So what's next, Detective?"

* * *

"Where exactly are we going, Fraser?" Ray asked as he slid into the driver's seat of his black GTO. His pride and joy. The car had been lovingly restored to full health and shining example by his him and his father.

"Would it not be pertinent to examine the crime scene?" Fraser climbed into the back seat, allowing Suzanne to take the front.

"Forensics were all over that," Ray reminded him.

Fraser began flipping through the case notes Ray had handed him earlier, "Nevertheless, it seems like somewhere to start."

Ray dropped his head for a moment and then looked back up, "Fine."

He heard Suzanne let out a sigh next to him and looked over at her, "Somethin' up, England?"

She looked mock-defensive, "Me? No, nothing."

"Good. Because I don't recall inviting you along-"

"Ray, " Frasers warning tone stopped him in his track.

He changed the subject, "Where's the wolf?" Ray was a little surprised Diefenbaker, Fraser's furry friend, was nowhere to be seen.

"Wolf?" Suzanne echoed looking confused.

"Half wolf," Fraser corrected, leaning forward in the back seat.

"Half wolf?" She didn't look less confused.

Fraser made a face, "It would seem that Diefenbaker's fondness for junk food has finally caught up with him. He's sick."

"Sick?" Ray couldn't help but feel a little concerned; he'd grown quite fond of Dief, "Is it serious?"

"Oh, no, no. The vet assures me he'll be fine in a day or so. He ate something that didn't agree with him. I tried to warn him but..." Fraser shook his head.

"Hang on..." Suzanne twisted in her seat to face Fraser, "You have a half-wolf called Diefenbaker?"

Ray put his foot on the accelerator and flew like a bat out of hell from the car lot.

* * *

The Albany hotel was a large, grand building. The entrance hall was imposing with two huge chandeliers and an enormous staircase situated in the middle. Fraser and Suzanne held back as Ray approached the bell desk to obtain a swipe card for the elevator.

"It's quite impressive isn't it?" Fraser noted, as Suzanne admired the surroundings.

"Yeah, and I imagine it costs more than my yearly salary for a night too."

"Point taken," Fraser agreed.

She shared a smile with him just as Ray returned and couldn't help but notice a look on Ray's face as he saw it. Disappointed? Irritated? Hard to say. She didn't have time to dwell on it however, as Ray turned again and headed towards the elevators to the side of the staircase.,"This way."

The room was clearly marked by the yellow police ribbons that criss-crossed the door. Fraser used his knife to deftly cut through the ribbons and held them out of the way for first Suzanne then Ray to enter.

It was your average hotel room, albeit your average _expensive_ hotel room. The décor was dull, at least in Suzanne's opinion, not that the drawn curtains were helping. Ray reached across to open them, as if reading her mind.

There was nothing immediately unusual, apart from the police markings on the floor and a large dark stain, notable immediately as blood. Anything of any interest would have been bagged, tagged and removed by now, but that aside the room would be untouched.

"No sign of a struggle," Suzanne remarked as they all made note of the room, careful not to disturb anything.

It was Fraser who spoke again first, "Hmm..."

Ray turned to look at him, "What you found?"

"Oh...nothing."

Ray sighed, "Let's not go over this again, Fraser. 'Hmm' means something in Canadian. I know it, you know it. So spill."

"Well, Ray..."

Suzanne stood listening to the conversation for the a few seconds before she moved off into the bathroom. Mirror, sink, shower, everything as it should be. She opened the bathroom cabinet using her jacket sleeve and found nothing. After one last look around she returned to join the others and shook her head to answer their unasked question.

Suzanne nodded toward a book that Ray now held in his hand, "What's that?"

Ray held it up for her to see, "Chess strategies: The ultimate guide for beating your opponent."

Suzanne reached out and took the book. She flicked through the first few pages, "Where did you find it?"

"It was on the table by the window," Fraser answered her.

"A little light reading while he waited for Calding?" Ray wondered out loud.

She shook her head, "Hardly light. This is advanced stuff."

Ray nodded thoughtfully, studying her, "You play?"

"Yeah, my father taught me," She told him absently, still turning the book over in her hands and staring at it.

"No kiddin', mine too. You any good?"

"I could probably beat you," she told him, a little more teasingly than she'd intended.

"Yeah? How much you willing to bet on that?" Ray replied playfully.

"Ten," She squared up to him.

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

"Done. You and me, as soon as this case is over," Ray held her gaze a little longer than necessary, before looking away, clearly self-conscious. There was something Suzanne found very charming in that.

"Ahem," Fraser was getting impatient. As Ray and Suzanne both turned to look at him, he continued, "I'm presuming that Mr Carter didn't procure the room in the usual manner?"

Ray nodded, "If by that you mean did he bribe one of the housekeeping staff for a key? Then I'd put money on it," he paused, "I think maybe it's time we paid housekeeping a visit."

"Hmm..."

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

Ray sighed, "Nevermind."

* * *

"You Tim Corrigan?" Ray held his police ID up as he walked through the door to the hotel laundry room, shoving it in the face of the young man stuffing sheets into a large washer. He couldn't have been more than about 18. He looked startled and Ray could see the guilt written all over his face.

"Look, if this about that guy..." Corrigan stammered,"...I don't know anything," he looked at Ray and then to Suzanne and Fraser standing behind him, "What I need three cops or somethin'?"

Ray gestured toward Suzanne briefly, "She's not a cop. You gave him the key?"

Tim turned his attention back to the washing, avoiding eye contact, "Like I said, I really don't know anything."

Ray's patience was running out, "We've just done wild goose chase all over this hotel and you know the name that keeps coming up?" he paused for a beat, "Yours," he nodded towards Corrigan, "Now I'm happy to go give that information to the top floor, or you can talk, and maybe, _maybe,_ I'll forget to mention your name in the report."

Tim eyed Ray up, clearly trying to decide if he could be trusted. Ray could, but chances are the bosses were going to work out the truth by themselves, which is information Ray didn't need to share.

After a beat, Tim backed down, "Look, he told me he just wanted the room for a few hours with his girlfriend. Said it was an anniversary. People ask sometimes. Its fifty dollars, you think they pay me enough to turn that kind of cash down?"

"Did you go back to the room once you'd given him the key?" Fraser cut in from behind Ray.

Tim stepped back looking disgusted, "Do I look like a voyeur? No. I told him to leave the key, I was gonna go get it first thing."

"You knew him?" Ray gave him a hard stare.

"I'd seen him around my neighbourhood. I didn't know him by name or anything. Look, I had no reason to kill him, ok?" Tim looked panicked.

Suzanne stepped forward, holding her hands out in a placating manner, "Easy. No one is accusing you. We're just trying to establish what happened."

Ray cast her a sideways look, but she continued, "Did he seem on edge to you?"

The kid thought about it for a moment, calmer now, "No, not that I noticed. Like I said, he wanted to use the room with his girlfriend. We didn't have a deep and meaningful conversation about it."

Suzanne pushed on, "And his girlfriend, did he mention her name?"

"No," Tim looked at her pleadingly," I'm just in housekeeping. He gave me a fifty to give him the key for a few hours, that's all I know."

Ray had had enough. The kid obviously didn't know anything useful. He pointed at Tim menacingly, "Don't leave the country."

Fraser leaned forward from behind him, "Thank you kindly"

* * *

"We're missing something," Suzanne stated as she slid into the passenger seat of Ray's car.

"What's with the _'we'_ business?" Ray gestured at her.

Suzanne gave him a look, "No, you're right. _You're_ missing something."

Ray made a _har-de-har_ face and turned the key in the ignition.

Fraser, who had already taken his seat in the back of the car, leant forward, "I think maybe a visit to Mr Carter's place of residence is in order, Ray."

Suzanne nodded in agreement, "Yeah, a little background on the victim is sensible."

Ray continued to stare at the steering wheel for a few seconds composing himself, before turning to Fraser.

"Fraser? I'm the Detective around here and it's my job to make these decisions. You on the other hand are a Canadian Mountie, with only slightly more jurisdiction in the United States than she has..." he gestured over to Suzanne, "Which is none. So I'd appreciate it if you would both..." he held up a hand to both of them, "...let me do my job."

Fraser looked apologetic, "I'm sorry, Ray."

"That's ok, don't do it again," Ray knew full well that Fraser would do it again, and again, and probably again. Nevertheless, it felt good to exercise some authority every now and then. Truthfully, he was quite happy for Fraser's input, hell, he welcomed it most of the time. He just didn't want Suzanne to think he wasn't capable of running this case, "And that goes for you too," he told her firmly, "You can sit in on this case, you can follow us around, you can even ride in my car, but when it comes to investigating, you leave that to the professional and zip it. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, _Ray_." Suzanne looked him in the eye and he was sure he could see amusement bubbling underneath.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fraser spoke up, "Well, Ray?"

"Well what?" Ray glanced at his friend.

"What do you propose we do?"

"Uh...I think we should go check out his home."

Fraser nodded, "Good idea, Ray."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Wow, nice place," Ray remarked sarcastically as he stepped through the door to Paul Carters residence. It was possibly the most run-down apartment he had ever come across, and he'd seen some scummy places. The wallpaper was virtually hanging from the damp walls and he couldn't even see the floor for the piles of trash and days... no, _years_ old papers, which wedged under the door as he pushed it open.

Suzanne followed him into the room, with Fraser trailing behind her.

"You," Ray pointed at Suzanne as she stepped through the door, "Stand there," he indicated to the middle of the room, "and don't touch anything."

Suzanne stood where he'd indicated, folded her arms across her chest and gave him a fake smile.

Fraser moved to the other side of the room and started to look over a pile of rubbish that appeared to have a desk underneath. Ray turned his attention to the coffee table, itself piled high with magazines and papers. He pushed through the mess with one finger; less from fear of disturbing evidence and more from fear of catching something. Aside from the trash littering every surface, the place looked like it hadn't been cleaned in decade.

He raised an eyebrow as he noticed a copy of Playboy in a stack of magazines and held it up. Suzanne shook her head at him.

"What?" Ray asked innocently, "It has interesting articles in it."

She made a _'oh yeah?'_ expression.

"Hey...Cindy Crawford..." he held the centre fold up and watched Suzanne's expression with a grin.

"Evidence, or research?" She deadpanned at him.

Ray put it back down and walked over to where Fraser was now shifting through post that had been left on the side, "Anything?" he questioned the Mountie.

"We have several months unpaid bills, junk mail and one letter from an amateur photographers association."

"Ooh, culture," Ray quipped as he walked away again and peered into a dark side room, feeling along the wall for a light switch. The light that flowed into the room was red and it took him a matter of milliseconds to realise that he was standing in what doubled as a photographic dark room. It was in a worse mess than the rest of the apartment with the added bonus of several plastic containers of chemicals mixed in.

"Fraser!" Ray hollered for his partner and seconds later both Fraser and Suzanne appeared at the door.

"And I thought my apartment was a mess," Ray remarked to no one in particular.

"Oh, I don't know. It might look okay with a lick of paint." Suzanne answered sarcastically.

"Yeah... and a blow torch." He shared an amused smile with her as Fraser went ahead and shifted through the rubbish.

Fraser muttered, "I would have thought a blow torch would have destroyed any... Ah ha."

"Ah ha?" Ray walked over to join him.

"Evidence." Fraser slowly held up an empty ice-cream container. Its contents long since congealed and mould growing in colourful varieties.

Ray winced, "That's not evidence, Fraser. It's an ice-cream carton. And it's disgusting. Put it down will you, you don't know what's growing on that!"

Fraser carefully deposited the carton on the floor.

"At least you didn't taste it." Ray remarked.

"Wait a minute..." Suzanne stepped further into the room and picked up something that had been under the carton.

"Actually, Ray, I was referring to the photos." Fraser nodded towards the photos now in Suzanne's hands.

"I knew that," Ray sniffed.

Suzanne walked away from them both and back into the main room, as Ray called after her, "Hey! I thought I told you not to touch anything," he followed her out and watched as she held a photo up near the window to see it better.

Suzanne's expression abruptly changed to one of confusion, with a flash of fear that was there and gone in a heartbeat. He walked up to her and snatched the photos back, "I said NO touching," before looking at the photos himself.

At first he wasn't sure what he was looking at. It was a busy street scene, people bustling to and fro, nothing stood out immediately.

Fraser appeared over his shoulder took one look and then immediately turned towards Suzanne, "This is you?"

Ray's head whipped up towards Suzanne at his friends question. She nodded slowly, but didn't speak. He looked back at the picture, which did seem to be centred on a female passer-by, and when Ray examined more closely the resemblance became obvious. He quickly started to shuffle trough the other photos in his hands; more of the same scene, but some closer. It was definitely Suzanne. He looked up at her again.

"I don't understand," She stammered, "Why would the victim have photos of me?"

Fraser peered over Ray's shoulder again, "It looks like a bank in the background."

Ray nodded, he recognised the place, "Western Bank, on nineteenth."

"When were you last there?" Fraser asked Suzanne, who had now started pacing the room.

"Um..." she was clearly trying to remain calm, "...last week." She walked over and took the photos from Ray's hand again, checking through them, "Yes. Definitely. I was wearing that sweatshirt."

"Do you remember anyone following you?" Fraser continued to question.

Suzanne shook her head, "No. Although... no."

Ray caught the hesitation, "What?"

She looked at him and then to Fraser, "It's probably nothing. I've had a few crank calls lately," she stopped again, "I just assumed it was kids."

"Has anything happened since?" Ray took the photos as she offered them back.

Suzanne shook her head, starting to pace again, "No. Nothing."

Fraser walked away, back to the darkroom, leaving Ray alone with Suzanne. She was now staring into the middle distance, her brow furrowed in worry.

Ray couldn't help his concern, "You okay?"

Suzanne managed a half-hearted smile, "Yeah...just...the thought of a stranger taking photos of me is..." she left the sentence hanging, the end obvious.

Ray nodded, "Especially when he then turns up dead."

Suzanne looked at him with something approaching horror and Ray realised that his statement was uncalled for, "Sorry, I just meant..." the end of the sentence wouldn't come, so he changed the subject, "It could be a coincidence."

"You really think that?" Her question left him in no doubt that she didn't think the answer was yes.

Fraser returned as quickly as he had left. In his hand, he carried more photographs, "As far as I can tell they are all more or less variations on the same photograph of Miss Harrison."

"Suzanne, please," she spoke quietly, "Anything but Miss Harrison, okay?"

Fraser acknowledged her request before continuing, "They appear to have been taken from an angle above the bank. Ray?" Fraser looked toward his friend, "Are you familiar with the area?"

"Sure," Ray closed his eyes to mentally picture it, "Ah, there are some office buildings opposite. He could have taken the photos from there."

Fraser nodded, "Perhaps we should have these processed too." He gestured to several undeveloped rolls of film he'd also retrieved from the darkroom.

* * *

The trip back to the police station was made in silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of static from the radio and the odd _'Hmm'_ from Fraser.

Ray kept watching Suzanne in the rear view mirror; she seemed very unsettled, staring out the car window with no real focus and chewing on her thumb nail, which Ray wasn't sure she even knew she was doing. Either the photos of Suzanne in Carters possession was one hell of a coincidence or her involvement was more it appeared to be. All Ray knew was that something felt off to him. Very off. But that wasn't the only reason why he couldn't keep his eyes off their backseat passenger.

They couldn't have been more than a few blocks from the station when the car was suddenly shunted from behind.

"What the...?!" Ray gasped as he tried desperately to control the vehicle.

Again, the car behind shunted the GTO and this time Ray couldn't hold the wheel in place. The car carved off the road and hit a bagel stand on the side of the street, coming to a stop just before a wall. His head smacked into the wheel and the world went blurry. He saw a flurry of red as Fraser leapt from the passenger seat in pursuit of the culprits. Ray couldn't have leapt anywhere if his life depended on it. He put his hand to his head and felt a trickle of blood where his forehead had made contact with the wheel.

Carefully he turned around to Suzanne who had her hand wrapped around the back of her neck, "You okay?"

She nodded very carefully, "I think so."

Ray gingerly got out of the car, the dizziness fading, and walked over to help the vendor to his feet. He'd been lucky to have been out of the way when the car had hit. The man waved Ray away and went to survey the damage to his bagel stand, just as Fraser returned.

"You get a licence?" Ray questioned him.

Fraser shook his head, out of breath, "Only part of it," He paused before looking more closely at Ray, "You're bleeding."

"Yeah... apparently," Ray put his hand to his head it again. It stung. "What the hell was that about?"

Fraser shook his head, "An accident?"

Suzanne had climbed out from the back seat to join them and Fraser walked towards her. She waved him off in a friendly way, "I'm fine. Just jarred my neck, that's all."

"It might be prudent to get it looked at all the same," Fraser held out a hand to steady her as she went to lean on the car bonnet.

Ray made his way around to inspect what was left of the trunk of the car. He couldn't help wince when he saw it, "You have to be kidding me."

"Badly damaged?" Suzanne shouted from where she was sat.

Ray shook his head. "Little bit of glue it'll be alright." He joked.

* * *

The ambulance crew at the scene had tended to both Suzanne's neck and Rays head injury; both of which had turned out to be superficial. In fact, they had been lucky to escape with little more than a headache. After watching Ray's car being towed to the garage, the owner of which had assured Ray the car would be returned as good as new, they returned to the station.

Ray slung his jacket over the nearest filing cabinet and slumped into his chair while Fraser perched on the edge of the desk and Suzanne took the chair opposite.

"So let me just run this through again..." Ray began, "We have a dead guy found in a posh hotel room. We have a suspect, who denies doing it. We have a liaison from the British Consulate..." he pointed at Suzanne, "...who has been photographed, apparently by the victim, and my car has just been run off the road by persons unknown. Is it just me or does this make no sense at all?"

"It is a little abstract, yes," Fraser answered, rubbing his eyebrow.

"Good," Ray looked at Suzanne who was busy watching the floor intently. When she suddenly looked up instead of looking away he dared to smile at her, hoping it looked reassuring, rather than ominous.

"You're kinda quiet," he nodded towards her as she looked at, but really through him.

She must have realised he was talking to her, as her attention abruptly shifted back, "Yeah..." she brushed her hair behind her ear and leant forward, "Yeah... just... this is all..." she sighed, "Not what I expected when I woke up this morning," she smiled back at Ray.

"Finally decided to do some work today then, Ray?" They were suddenly interrupted by Francesca Vecchio's appearance. Ray made a 'har-de-har' face toward her, but didn't reply in the hope she might disappear.

She didn't.

"I've been here for hours, phoning, typing and filing-"

"Your nails?" Ray retorted sarcastically, "And besides Frannie, you didn't arrive 'til nearly half nine this morning."

Francesca Vecchio was the Civilian Aide at the PD, she also happened to be Ray Vecchio's sister. The _real_ Vecchio's, which meant Ray had inherited her when he stepped into Vecchio's shoes. Not that he minded really, for all the verbal sparring, Francesca was the least of his worries.

Francesca acted as if she didn't hear the last comment Ray made and instead turned to batter her eye lashes at Fraser, "Hi, Frase."

Fraser shifted uncomfortably as he normally did, "Francesca," he answered courteously.

Clearly realising no one else was going to introduce her Suzanne stuck her hand out and did it herself, "Suzanne Harrison, from the British Consulate."

Frannie shook her hand, "Oh... Francesca Vecchio. Pleased to meet you."

'Vecchio?' Suzanne echoed, looking over to Ray.

"Sister," Ray sputtered out and then realising he'd spoken a little too fast, he composed himself, "She's my sister."

"So," Frannie continued ignoring him, "What did you do to get stuck working with Ray?"

"I was told I'd be working with the best Chicago had to offer,"

Frannie snorted, "Well if this is the best, I'd hate to see the worst," She paused and looked towards Fraser, "Obviously I don't mean you, Fraser."

Fraser nodded, "Thank you kindly, Francesca."

Ray was getting impatient, "Files, Frannie?"

She made a face and threw a pile of paperwork toward Ray who caught it deftly.

"Francesca?" Fraser stepped toward her, "I wonder if you might be able to see your way to having this developed," He produced the film from his pocket.

"Holiday photos?" Frannie asked inquisitively.

"Ah no. Evidence. And would you also be good enough to run this licence plate, I'm afraid I was only able to get part of it," Fraser handed over a piece of paper.

"Oh. Sure Fraser, no problem., Ray watched Francesca return to her desk in completely inappropriate dress for a police station; a short black skirt and blue top that wasn't long enough to cover her midriff. He wasn't quite sure how she managed to get away with it.

"I need to make a telephone call," Suzanne directed her comment at no one in particular and pushed herself away from the desk.

"Hey, I've got a phone here-" Ray shouted as Suzanne began to walk away but she clearly didn't hear him.

Ray looked after her for a few seconds then turned to Fraser, "Somethin's odd."

"Odd?" his friend repeated.

"I dunno. I just get the feeling she's involved."

Fraser looked concerned, "Well yes. She has, apparently, been photographed by the victim."

Ray shook his head, "Nah... that's not what I mean. She just...ah..." he stopped himself. "I don't know. I'm jumping to conclusions."

Fraser looked toward the floor and then back to his friend, "I think we can trust Miss Harrison, Ray."

Ray corrected him, "Suzanne."

* * *

Suzanne stepped out to the front desk, held up her ID and politely asked the desk sergeant for the telephone. She'd suddenly felt so suffocated in the squad room but she didn't know why. She'd just needed a time out and a familiar voice.

She dialled the number with practised ease and only half listened as the phone began to ring. It was answered by a male voice a good few years older than her own.

She smiled involuntary at the sound of his voice, "Hi."

"Susie?" Her father was pleasantly surprised at first before his tone changed to instant worry, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she chided gently, "Isn't a daughter allowed to ring her father?"

"I know you." his voice was low in gentle warning.

"Everythings fine, I just wanted to check in."

"Well, it's lovely to hear your voice," her dad paused, "Are you working on the big case?"

"Big case?"

"The one involving Lord Calding?"

"How did you know?" Suzanne asked a little surprised.

"It's on the news here. You know the press. When I heard it was Chicago I knew you'd be involved."

Suzanne nodded. Clearly her superiors hadn't managed to keep it out the papers, "I can't say much about it, dad."

"Of course."

"But yes... I am... involved," she hesitated over the words.

"You're sure everything is ok?"

Suzanne paused, "Dad?" she asked tentatively, changing the subject. "Do you believe in instinct?"

"Of course. What's worrying you?"

"No, nothing," her answer was too quick, she knew that, so she continued before he could pick up on it, "I just have a feeling about something, but it doesn't make much sense."

Her father remained silent for a few seconds before replying, "You have great instinct. You should trust it."

Suzanne smiled ever so slightly, "Thanks. I guess I just needed to hear your voice."

"Well, you know where I am."

"I do."

"Oh...wait! Did he do it?" her father asked blatantly.

"Dad!" she smiled again.

"Worth a try," he laughed, before hanging up the phone.

Suzanne replaced the handset, she felt a little better than before. She had always been close to her Dad having lost her mother when she was in her early teens. Sometimes just hearing his voice made all the difference in the world.

Her reverie was broken when Ray and Fraser walked in looking for her. She smiled whole-heartedly, she may have been uneasy but she was not going to let it show.

"We're... uh... going to look over the office buildings near the bank," Ray spoke first.

Suzanne nodded, but gestured towards the door, "I really should get back to the Consulate." She wasn't sure but she thought that Ray looked slightly disappointed.

* * *

"The camera never lies, right?" Ray directed the comment to Fraser as he kept his eyes on the road from behind the wheel of the borrowed station car.

"That's not strictly true. With modern technology-"

Ray cut him off, "And what do you know about technology, Fraser?"

Fraser gestured with his hands, "Well, while I don't pretend to be up to speed on all areas of advancement, I do find it useful to keep abreast-"

"Abreast?"

"Ahead"

"Oh."

"-of many areas of technological interest. Contrary to popular belief, Canada is a very advanced nation."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, Ray. We have many pioneers in the fields of science and technology."

"So how come you haven't joined the space race?"

"I wasn't aware it was a race."

"It's just a saying, Fraser."

"Oh, I see"

"You do?"

"No. But Canada has thought it more important to-"

"Forget I asked!" Ray had to put a stop to this before it got out of hand.

Fraser nodded, "As you wish."

The car fell silent for a few seconds.

"She's hiding somethin'" Ray stated simply.

"Ray..." Fraser's voice was full of warning.

"I know. But I have this is gut feeling. There's something she's not telling us."

"We are not investigating Suzanne," Fraser reminded him.

"And what about the photos?"

Fraser gestured with his hands, "Coincidence?"

Ray snorted, "I don't believe in coincidence. Paul Carter was watching her. Why? And  
why was she in such a hurry to get back to the Consulate?"

"Well, she has duties, Ray. Much the same as I do, I would imagine."

Ray looked at his partner and laughed, "Fraser, you spend more time at my desk than I do."

* * *

The office building looked like any other in the City of Chicago, tall, grey and characterless.  
Ray walked up to the reception desk and flashed his ID. The girl behind the desk gestured vaguely toward the elevator, before picking up her telephone receiver.

Fraser and Ray took to elevator to the ninth floor where they were met by one of the office managers.

"Detective?" George Lanning shook Ray's hand, before looking curiously at Fraser.

"Ah, this is Constable Fraser RCMP," Ray offered by way of explanation.

Lanning looked even more confused, "What's a Mountie doing in Chicago?"

"Well, I first came to Chicago-" Fraser began.

"It's a long story," Ray cut him off, "You have any guys with cameras hanging around lately?" he wanted to get to the point of the visit as soon as possible.

Lanning looked at the floor clearly trying to recall his memory, "Come to think of it, we did...about a week ago. Guy came to take some photos of the buildings across the way. Said he was from an architectural company. Asked to use our windows."

Ray pulled a photo of Paul Carter from the dossier he was carrying, "This him?"

Lanning studied the photo for a few seconds, "Nope."

Ray shared a knowing look with Fraser.

"You're quite sure," Fraser asked.

"Yeah. Guy was older than that."

Ray nodded, "Could you describe him?"

"Sure. Five ten maybe. Blonde hair and a beard. Um... kinda scruffy looking."

Ray took the photo of Carter back from Lanning, "Ok. Would you mind helping us make a composite?"

Lanning nodded, "What did he do?"

Fraser answered first, "He may well be a witness in an ongoing investigation."

Ray jumped in quickly, "We'll be in touch," hoping his tone indicated the conversation was over.

"Sure," Lanning nodded slowly, eyeing Ray warily, and walked away.

Ray turned to his partner as soon as Lanning was out of earshot, "So it wasn't Paul Carter?"

Fraser nodded, "It would appear not. However we do have a description of the man who took the photos."

"Fraser, the guy just described half of Chicago. Hell, if I grew a beard it could be me."

"Now that's just silly Ray."

Ray sighed, "If Paul Carter didn't take the photos, then who the hell did?"

Fraser scratched at his eyebrow, "Well I would suggest as soon as we get the composite we check it against known felons."

Ray chose to ignore his friends entirely obvious statement, "I'm all over that, Fraser."

"It is possible that those photos were planted at Paul Carter's apartment."

That caught Ray's attention, "To serve what purpose?"

"To throw us off the scent."

"We're not hunting Caribou."

"Well, I realise that Ray, but the principle is the same."

Ray was about to ask how, when thought better of it. Instead, he started back towards the elevator, "So how is Paul Carter connected to the photo guy? That's what we need to know right?"

Fraser nodded, "Whatever the reason, I believe that Paul Carter may have been a small mackerel."

Ray sighed, "FISH, Fraser. It's small _fish_."

"Ah yes. Fish it is."

* * *

At the British Consulate, Suzanne sat at her desk staring into space. In her hand, she held a copy of the chess book they'd found in Paul Carter's hotel room. She had stopped by the library on her way back and borrowed it. She didn't know why it was important, but she was following her instinct.

Something had been gnawing away at her since they'd found those photo's at Carters apartment, and it was more than a simply a dislike of being photographed unwillingly. Something was very wrong here.

Suzanne was stirred from her daydream by a gentle knock at her office door.

"Coffee?" Sue the receptionist stuck her head around the door.

Suzanne shook her head, "No. I'm good. Thanks though."

Sue smiled and closed the door quietly as she left. The interruption was all Suzanne needed to get back to the real world. She picked up the receiver and dialled the police department. Firstly she had to make sure the lawyer she'd arranged for Lord Calding had arrived, then she'd move on from there.

* * *

Fraser had insisted on the detour to the Canadian Consulate. Ray now sat in the car parked outside growing increasingly impatient by the second. Inside the Consulate, Fraser was having a rather difficult conversation with Constable Turnball, who was staffing the reception desk. Fraser set his mouth into grim line and attempted to let Turnball finish his side of the conversation.

"I cooked him a nice rice and milk meal. Easy on the stomach. Rice is supposed to have healing qualities. Do you know it comes from the upper mountainous region of China, where in 1812 Sing Wong-"

Fraser could take it no more and held his hand up to stop him, "Turnball, where is he?" he asked wearily.

"He is having a nap. I expect him to awaken soon. He needs his rest."

Fraser looked down at his feet and sighed. Turnball was the single most infuriating person he knew. After a few seconds, he decided it would be quicker to find Dief himself and he pushed past Turnball, ignoring the plea of. "You really shouldn't disturb him..."

Fraser searched all over the Consulate, opening cupboards, under tables and even upstairs. However, Dief was nowhere to be seen.

Fraser was about to ask Turnball once again for Dief's location, when he heard a soft bark in the direction of Thatcher's office. Fraser looked toward the door, then shook his head. No, he couldn't possibly be in there. Inspector Thatcher would never allow that.

Another unmistakable bark came from the Inspectors office and after a moment he tapped on the door lightly.

He heard Thatcher's voice, "Yes?" and gently pushed the door open.

Inside Thatcher was kneeling next to Diefenbaker petting the dog affectionately. As soon as she spotted Fraser she quickly moved to her feet and began smoothing her skirt awkwardly.

"Fraser! I thought you were out?" her words could not hide her obvious embarrassment.

Fraser stumbled over his own words, "I was, Sir, but I thought I'd should stop by and see how Diefenbaker is."

Thatcher walked briskly over to her desk and busied herself, shuffling papers back and forth, and avoiding eye contact, "Oh. Well," she said sharply, "He seems to be fine."

Fraser nodded as Diefenbaker let out a whining noise. _'Oh please'_ Fraser directed his thoughts at Dief.

He stood still for a few seconds, before Thatcher looked up at him expectantly, all trace of embarrassment gone, business as usual, "Was there anything else Constable?"

Fraser hesitated, "Well...Yes, Sir."

Thatcher watched him intently, "Go on."

Fraser drew in a breath, "Detective Vecchio and myself are working on a case which involves a British National. As a suspect," he clarified. Thatcher nodded carefully and Fraser continued watching her reaction, "It's entirely possible that the suspect may well be a target for the real killer."

"Real killer?" Thatcher echoed, clearly confused.

Fraser shifted his weight, "Well...that is to say that the suspect who is presently being held is not, in fact, the real killer, and that the person, who is not at present known, who is the real killer, may target the suspect, if or when he is released on bail."

Thatcher stared at him, "And this affects us because?"

"Well it doesn't," Fraser replied honestly. "At least not directly. But I was hoping to use the Consulate as a... well a..." he hesitated, "Safe house."

"Safe house?" she repeated. Her full attention now rested on Fraser, something that always made him uneasy, "The British do have a Consulate, Fraser. I've been there. Several times. I'm quite sure they are perfectly capable of dealing with this issue themselves."

"Yes," Fraser couldn't really argue, "I have no doubt. But given that the victim was American and the suspect is British, we make a good neutral ground," Thatcher made a face and Fraser continued quickly, "It would also promote good relations between our three countries."

Thatcher put down her paperwork and walked out from behind her desk looking at him in a funny way. Fraser had a feeling he knew what was going through her head. When he'd offered Ray asylum at the Consulate, Thatcher had returned from a relaxing weekend to find the Consulate smothered with streetwise criminals, corrupt police officers and swat teams.

"This doesn't involve guns, or explosives, weapons of mass destruction or swat teams from the Chicago PD?" she queried.

"No, Sir."

"And you are sure he is innocent, Fraser?"

"Quite sure," he replied more firmly than he believed.

Thatcher seemed satisfied, "Very well," she nodded curtly, "But I don't expect you to neglect your duties here, Constable, understood?" she glared at Fraser in a _'or all hell will break loose'_ manner.

"Understood."

"Good."

Fraser stood for a few minutes before he gestured toward the door, "Ah?"

"Oh. Dismissed. And please take the wolf with you."

He nodded and gestured at Diefenbaker. The wolf did not move. Instead he laid his head between his paws. Fraser looked sternly at him and silently mouthed _'NOW'_. This time the wolf made an exit, whining on his way out.

* * *

"Well?" Ray looked expectantly at his partner as Dief climbed into the back of the car, licking Ray's face as he went.

"He seems fine. A little pale though." Fraser eased himself into the passenger seat and shut the door.

"Not the wolf, Fraser, I can see he's ok. What did the Ice queen say?"

He saw Fraser briefly frown at Ray's nickname for Thatcher, "Oh. Yes."

Ray couldn't help but be surprised, "Really?"

"Yes, and I really wish you wouldn't call her that."

Ray was certain that Thatcher would have something to say about Fraser's plan. He shook his head with disbelief as he started the ignition, shifted into gear and eased the car onto the road.

 _"Ray?"_ A distorted voice crackled over the radio.

He grabbed for the handset whilst steering through the heavy downtown traffic with one hand. A stunt he'd become pretty practised in by now.

"Francesca? How many times have we gone over this? You don't just say my name, you're supposed to use the call sign," Ray shook his head.

" _Oh yeah? Well smart guy, in that case how do you know I was talking to you?"_ Francesca shot back.

"You know she does have a point," Fraser looked over at his partner.

"Fraser. Shut up."

"Understood."

"What do you want, Frannie?" Ray was growing even more impatient than usual.

 _"Well that's a great attitude, Detective. I just thought you might be interested to know that I have the composite of your suspect here."_

"We're on our way."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"How the hell do you know if a Wolf looks pale?" Ray questioned Fraser as he pushed through the entrance door to the station and headed toward the squad room. He held the doors open for both Fraser and Dief to go through.

"I'm sorry?" Fraser clearly hadn't heard above the noise of the entrance hall.

"The Wolf," Ray enunciated, "You said in the car that he looked pale. How can you tell? He's a white wolf."

"Well actually, he's an Arctic Wolf. But it's the eyes."

Ray wasn't sure if he should be impressed with Fraser's intimate knowledge of wolves or worried for his sanity.

As they headed straight for Francesca's desk, they found Suzanne was already waiting there, with Francesca deep in conversation on the phone.

Ray nodded at Suzanne, "All sorted at the Consulate?" she seemed to flush slightly under his gaze, which Ray immediately found attractive, until his brain told him that she probably had something to hide.

"All good," she smiled at him, "Francesca tells me Carter wasn't the photographer?"

Fraser replied for him. "It appears the photos were taken by someone else, yes."

Ray tried to wait patiently as Francesca finished her telephone conversation, but found himself scanning around her desk for the composite. Frannie waved him away with her free hand and Ray gave up.

"OK... well I'll be sure to pass that on," Frannie finished the conversation, put the phone down, "Jeez... you always been so impatient?"

"The composite, Frannie," Ray demanded.

He watched her turn over the paper she had been writing the phone message on, "Here."

Ray fought the urge to explode and instead settle for making a face at her.

Frannie looked defensive, "What? It was handy."

Ray studied the image carefully, letting Fraser peer from over his shoulder. Once he'd taken a good look he handed the picture over to Suzanne, "You recognise this guy?"

Suzanne examined the image closely, "I don't know..."

Ray scrutinized her face and reaction to the picture, "You don't know?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Suzanne looked up at him clearly annoyed, "Give me a second?"

Ray shut up and let her drink in the image again.

"He's..." she started, then hesitated, "...there's something familiar. But I can't place him."

Ray tore his gaze from Suzanne and gestured toward Frannie who had begun to file her nails, "Do you think you could manage to run this through the database. That's if you're not too busy with your talons?"

Frannie smiled sweetly, "Already done. No matches."

Ray was secretly impressed at Frannie's efficiency, but said nothing, "No matches?"

"Nope. None. Nada. Zip. Squat."

Ray slammed the picture on the desk in frustration, "Dead end."

Even Fraser looked lost for ideas, Ray noted. The Mountie turned towards Suzanne, "Do you think he's someone you met through the Consulate?"

Suzanne shook her head, "I don't think so, but I can't be sure. I don't recognise him, but I just feel like I've seen him before. If that's makes any sense?"

Ray was about to reply in the negative but Fraser stepped in first. "Yes it does."

Instead, Ray looked up to catch the eye of his colleague across the room, "Hey Jack! Do you think you could show this around for me?" he walked over and handed Detective Jack Huey the composite, "Somebody must have seen this guy."

Huey nodded, "Sure."

Tom Dewey, Jack's partner, rushed over to grab the piece of paper and shoved it back at Ray, "Do your own dirty work, Vecchio. We got cases to solve too."

"Is it too much to ask..." Ray shouted as Dewey walked away to his desk," ...for a little professional back-up?"

Dewey simply waved some case files at him and headed toward the lunchroom.

Despite his partner's objections, Huey took the paper from Ray's hands, "I'll see what I can come up with."

Ray simply nodded his thanks.

"What about the licence?" Ray suddenly turned his attention back to Frannie. He'd nearly forgotten about it.

"Narrowed it down to one match, a 1970 blue Lincoln licence RCW 139. Registered to a Mr Smith."

Ray went to go grab his coat, "Let's go pick him up."

"There's not much point," Frannie answered.

"What do you mean no point? I have a dent in the back of my car the same shape as a Lincoln. A blue Lincoln. Mr Smith's Lincoln."

Frannie sighed, "It was reported stolen this morning and found burnt out in an alley an hour ago."

Ray dropped his coat back down and sat on his desk dejected, "Another dead end."

Fraser suddenly excused himself from the conversation and headed toward Lieutenant  
Welsh's office, and Frannie went back to her nails, leaving Suzanne and Ray sat in silence for a few moments. Ray snuck a concealed look toward Suzanne who was busy studying the floor again.

"So you get Calding's lawyer organised?" he ventured.

"Sorry?" Suzanne had been in a world of her own.

"Calding's lawyer? You left in a hurry."

"Oh... yeah. It's all under control," Suzanne shifted forward in her seat before continuing, "The Consulate is holding a ball tomorrow night. I'm stuck trying to help organise that in between everything else. Not quite how I planned my career going," she smiled.

Ray nodded, suddenly lost for words again. He'd been trying to subtly interrogate her to find out why she'd left so suddenly earlier. A consulate ball might well explain it.

"What was the call about?" Ray blurted the question out before he realised he was going to. He did that a lot.

Suzanne was clearly taken aback, "Excuse me?"

Ray shifted in his seat, "I mean... I thought maybe that was why you had to make call so suddenly. You forgot the flowers or somethin'," he made a pathetic attempt at a laugh to lighten the mood but she was eyeing him suspiciously.

"It was a private phone call. Is it important?"

"No, no. I just... ah..." Ray's sentence trailed off.

Suzanne squared up to him from across the table, "If you want to question me just say so and we can do it properly in an interview room."

Ray didn't quite know what to say. He felt like an idiot. She'd clearly figured out what he was trying to do, "No, its...uh...I don't think that's necessary. Do you?" He attempted to put the ball right back in her court.

Suzanne was about to reply when Fraser returned.

"Where you been?" Ray knew full well, but he needed to change the subject and quickly.

"I felt it prudent to apprise Lieutenant Welsh of the situation."

Ray let his head hang, "Fraser, that's my job."

"So it is. But I thought... well... that is-"

"Fraser is so much better at explaining things than you are, " Frannie continued as she approached from her desk.

Ray made a face, "What is it now, Frannie? My Id is groovy, I don't feel yellow and I already  
had a cappuccino."

"Well that's great, Ray, I'm relieved, but I have a telephone call for Suzanne."

Suzanne looked a little surprised but dutifully followed Frannie back to her desk and picked up the receiver. Ray stood up on instinct and moved closer on the pretence of putting some mail in a tray.

Suzanne picked up the phone, "Suzanne Harrison."

Of course Ray couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but he couldn't mistake the way Suzanne closed her eyes and took a sharp breath in.

"Who is this?" she spoke quietly, clearly trying to keep the conversation private and turning her face away.

Ray couldn't hear anything further, but something seemed wrong. Her body language had suddenly changed for the worse. He gave up the pretence and walked straight over to where Suzanne was standing, Fraser following his lead.

As they approached Suzanne replaced the receiver and turned to face them both, taking a deep breath as she did so.

"Who was that?" Ray nodded toward the phone.

Suzanne looked at him for a beat, "I forgot the flowers," she replied coolly before brushing past them both and walking toward Ray's desk to pick up her bag, "I'm going to see if Calding made bail yet," she spoke to no-one in particular and left.

After she had gone Ray nodded toward Fraser, "Let's go get coffee."

Fraser picked up his hat and followed Ray to the lunchroom, Dief trotting dutifully behind.

"She lied," Ray jumped straight in as he began pouring the liquid that passed for coffee in the station.

"We don't know that," Fraser poured himself some water.

"Oh come on Fraser!" Ray spun around so fast the coffee sloshed precariously, "You don't really think that call was about flowers?"

Fraser hung his head, "No, I don't."

"Ya see," Ray pointed at him to make his point before taking a seat at the nearest table.

"Obviously not what _you_ see," Fraser replied cryptically.

"Ok," Ray took a sip from his cup and then set it on the table as Fraser sat down next to him. "Say...Suzanne is involved with Calding-"

Fraser cut him off, "Involved."

Ray eyed his friend. Sometimes he was jealous of his partner's apparent virtuousness, other times it got on his nerves. "Yeah, you know? _Involved._ Seeing. Doing the-"

Fraser nodded his understanding, preventing Ray from continuing, "You were there when she spoke with Calding, Ray. There was nothing to suggest that."

Ray gestured with his hands, "No. But she could be covering for him."

"To what end?"

"I'm getting to that," Ray admonished him," So... she's is involved with Calding. This Carter guy finds out, he starts blackmailing Calding, threatening to tell his wife... blah de blah. Calding kills him."

Fraser shifted. "There's something you're missing, Ray."

"What?" Ray asked half listening whilst he downed the caffeine.

"Well, even if Calding did kill Carter over blackmail, there is no evidence to suggest that Suzanne would even have known about Caldings plans much less have been involved with them. Besides the photographer at the bank wasn't Carter."

Fraser had a point, "Ok, ok... " he thought it over again, "So say Suzanne has some trouble with this photographer guy, she asks Calding to help but Calding kills the wrong guy."

"Then why were the photos at Carters apartment and, indeed, why did Calding not just hire someone to do it for him?" Fraser countered.

"It was personal."

"Ray."

Ray hung his head. He was going off on a tangent. He knew it, "I know. I know. I'm seeing what isn't there. But I'm telling you Fraser, something isn't right here."

Fraser nodded, "I would concur."

Huey appeared at the entrance to the lunchroom, "Welsh wants to see you in his office. _Now_ ," he emphasised the last word much as Welsh would have when giving the message.

Ray nodded and Fraser got up to follow him.

* * *

As Ray rounded the corner to the Lieutenant's office he could already see the occupants. Welsh was sitting behind his desk arms folded, Suzanne was to his right looking serious, and he didn't need his glasses to see the third person, talking in a rather animated manner, was Assistant States Attorney Stella Kowalski. Rays ex-wife.

Ray paused for a moment, trying to prepare himself, before he pushed open the office door. He caught the tail end of Stella's sentence as he and Fraser entered the room, shutting the door behind them.

"...matter of great delicacy," Stella enunciated.

" Ah Detective! Glad you could join us," Welsh gave Ray a look, "And Constable of course..."

Ray gave Stella a warm sly smile before moving over to the sofa in Welsh's office and slouching on it. The look Stella gave him back could have frozen a lake, but that was nothing unusual these days.

"As I was saying, Lieutenant..." Stella continued, turning her attention back to Welsh with a tone that brooked no argument, "It is the view of the States Attorney's office that the case should be dealt with quickly, efficiently and with _tact_ ," she emphasised the last word.

Welsh nodded, "Our very watchwords. Of course, it also happens to be a murder investigation and as such will be investigated thoroughly by the Detective in charge. And that would be Vecchio," Welsh gestured toward Ray, who smiled the sickliest smile he possibly could.

Stella wasn't remotely impressed, "With all due respect, this might be better handled by more senior officer."

Welsh continued, "I have every confidence in Detective Vecchio's ability."

Ray was happy at the compliment, but didn't have long to wallow in it as Stella brought him back to reality in short order.

"This requires tact and we both know that tact isn't exactly Detective Vecchio's strong point," Stella looked toward Ray as she spoke and he held her eye contact, saying nothing.

Ray had learnt that saying nothing really was the best option. Could Stella have him replaced on this case? Yes, she could. Would she? Probably.

He was still holding Stella's stare when he heard Suzanne speak.

"Well, _with all due respect_..." her voice dripped with sarcasm, "I'm more than happy with Detective Vecchio 's handling of the case so far," she had Ray's attention now, "Both he, and Constable Fraser..." Suzanne nodded at Fraser, " ...have done an excellent job. And surely changing the investigative team at this point is only going to set the case back?"

Stella looked uncomfortable for a moment, before she gestured toward Fraser, "May I ask exactly what a Mountie has got to do with this case?"

Fraser started to explain, "Nothing official, other than-"

Suzanne cut him off, "Actually I think bringing Constable Fraser in on this case was an inspired idea. An impartial viewpoint is always helpful."

Ray could not remember the last time he'd seen Stella lost for words. He didn't revel in it exactly, but he couldn't deny it felt a bit good. Stella was good at her job. Great at her job. She just hadn't ever thought Ray was good at his. Or at least it certainly felt that way, especially lately.

Suzanne picked up her coat from the back of the chair and nodded curtly at Stella, '"Ms Kowalksi," then smiled at Welsh, "Lieutenant," before gesturing toward Ray, Fraser and then the door, "Shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Suzanne had left Lord Calding in Fraser's very capable hands at the Canadian Consulate. Actually, to be more specific they had been Turnball's hands, and how capable they were Suzanne wasn't sure. Still, Thatcher seemed only too eager to help and Suzanne was sure she could keep things under control. It had taken some persuading to get Calding to agree to stay at the Consulate at all, but given the choice between a holding cell and a 'special' agreement with the States Attorney, Calding had chosen the latter.

Suzanne had accepted Ray's offer of a lift home. She was so tired, she could barely see straight. The phone call at the police station had shaken her, and part of her wished she had told Ray and Fraser the truth. Trouble was, she wasn't sure what the truth actually was. Ray already suspected her of something, that much was clear. His signals were blowing hot and cold, but there was a distinct undertone of distrust.

Despite that, she'd still felt the need to defend him and Fraser in Welsh's office. Old habit's seem to die hard.

She and Ray sat in silence as the car pulled along the largely empty streets of suburban Chicago. Eventually, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, Ray spoke up, "I've never seen anyone shoot Stella down like that," he stated with a smile.

Suzanne couldn't help but smile in return, "Yeah well, that's my speciality. Lawyers, Judges, Assistant States Attorneys... "

The quiet descended again for moment, but she couldn't help but notice Ray was still smiling.

"You and Stella have a history?" she wasn't daft, she could sense that there was more than the usual vibe between them.

Ray seemed a little taken aback at the question and the smile began to fade from his face, "Yeah...history. That's it." he said quietly.

Suzanne sensed she had hit a raw nerve and let the conversation drift a moment before trying a different tack, "You have family in Chicago?" she paused, "Aside from Frannie."

Ray didn't seem much more comfortable with this line of conversation either, "Uh...you know...families."

Suzanne couldn't help but think it an odd answer, but she let it go. Maybe there was a bad history there. Who knew?

Ray carried on the conversation himself, "You?"

"Me?" Suzanne didn't quite follow.

"Um...family." he gestured, keeping his eyes on the road, "You have family here?"

"Oh. No," she shook her head, "My dad and brother are in England. I lost my Mum quite a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," Ray offered an apology.

"Don't be. It's not your fault," Suzanne told him quickly.

The tension broke and the smile returned to Ray's face as he glanced at her. There were those mixed signals again.

They finally pulled up outside Suzanne's apartment. Ray turned off the engine and turned to her, "Home sweet home."

Suzanne looked up at her apartment through the front wind-screen. The normally cosy glowing windows looked very dark and lonely now. A small part of her wanted to ask Ray in for coffee, but the sensible part of her brain knew it was a bad idea. She barely knew him and given the events of the day, it wouldn't be a smart move.

Instead she gathered her coat and bag, "Thanks for the lift, Ray."

He nodded, "No problem."

She put her hand on the door handle, hesitated for a moment, then pulled the handle and paused again, trying to decide whether to say something.

Ray sensed her indecision, "You getting out or staying in?" he laughed a little.

"Out," she gesture at the door, but held eye contact with him, "I have no idea of what's going on and frankly I'm..." she let the sentence hang. She was what? Frightened? Confused? Yes, both of those, but did she really want to lay that on a man she had known for less than a day?

"You're...?" Ray prompted.

"Tired," she answered. It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth, "Just...tired."

Ray held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary and then simply said "OK."

* * *

Fraser opened the Consulate door and looked down disapprovingly as Diefenbaker made his way indoors. It was the eighth time he'd let the dog outside in the last two hours.

"That's the last time," he told the dog sternly, as Dief whined and cocked his head, "Well then you'll just have to wait till the morning won't you?" Fraser told him firmly and turned on his heel to return to his office.

Before he got halfway down the corridor he was halted by Turnball, "I wouldn't go that way."

Fraser was puzzled, "I have too Turnball. My office is that way."

As Turnball began to argue Fraser decided he didn't have time for his blithering tonight, so he ignored him and took another step. Almost immediately he slipped over and ended up flat on his back on the hard Consulate floor.

Fraser sat up, brushing away Turnball's offers of help. He reached down and touched the floor, his hand coming in to contact with something oil-like on the wooden floor. Putting his fingers to his mouth he tasted it.

"Olive oil and almond oil," Turnball answered before he had time to analyse the taste.

"You put this here?" Fraser cautiously got to his feet, trying not to slip again.

"Yes I did"

"Why?"

"Well, should anyone try to get to Lord Calding while he is sleeping-"

"Turnball." Fraser stopped him, before realising he didn't have the energy or patience to wrangle with Turnball's thought processes tonight, "Never mind. Carry on Constable."

Turnball nodded enthusiastically, turned on his heels and marched off.

Fraser shook his head and treading carefully managed to make it all the way to his office without further incident. Once inside, he made straight for the closet on the far side of the office. He hesitated before opening the door and after one last look around  
to make sure he was alone, stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Inside the closet was a log cabin style office. His father's office. His dead father's office. Fraser had long ago stopped asking why he was frequently visited by his deceased father or why said father had apparently built an office the closet. To dwell on it too much would be to question his own sanity.

His father's office was decorated with various memorabilia from Fraser senior's life in the Great North and had a log fire blazing warmth from the side of the room.

"Dad?" Fraser called tentatively as he stepped forward into the imaginary room.

Robert Fraser got up from behind his desk, "Oh there you are. I've been expecting you."

"You have?" Fraser asked surprised.

"Well yes, Son. It was about time you came to visit. I've been feeling a little neglected of late."

"Neglected? Dad, you're dead."

"Must you keep dwelling on that?" his father admonished him, "I really thought you would have got used to it by now. I have."

"Indeed," Fraser noted. He'd spent more time with his father since he died then when he was alive.

Fraser Senior looked at his progeny, "This case is troubling you, Son."

Fraser nodded, "Yes."

Bob began to walk around his desk, "You've never been put off by a puzzle before."

Fraser raised his arm to scratch at his eyebrow, "No, but this particular puzzle seems to have many pieces missing."

Bob nodded, "Then you'll just have to find them," he paused, "You know this reminds me of the time that Old George Bondefoot-"

"Dad?" Fraser interrupted, "I don't mean to be rude but is this going to be relevant?"

Fraser Senior looked seriously at his son, "Oh it's all relevant, Son. Never forget that."

Benton was about to ask his father to continue when he heard a knock at the closet door.  
Fraser nodded to his father and strode over to answer it. The door swung open to reveal Ray.

"Fraser?" Ray looked at him quizzically, "I've always known you were a couple cards short of a deck, but why are you talking to yourself in a closet?"

Fraser felt himself blushing ever so slightly and stammered over his answer," I...I lost something."

"Yeah, your mind. Where's Calding?"

Fraser took a blanket from the top shelf of the closet, stepped out and closed the door behind him, "Upstairs."

Ray took the blanket from him, "I'll take the first watch."

Fraser nodded and watched Ray make beeline for the exit.

He'd just begun to remove his lanyard when he heard a yelp, followed by an almighty crash. He ran out into the corridor to see what had happened only to find Ray flat on his back in much the same spot as Fraser had fallen earlier.

"What the...?" Ray mouthed.

"Turnball," Fraser said by way of an answer.

* * *

Suzanne got out of bed for what must have been the tenth time since she had retired for the night. She carefully drew back the curtain and peered outside. The streetlights shone down on the trashcans in the alley outside, and the cat that had knocked them over in search of food made off down the road.

She breathed a sigh of relief, "It's just a cat. What's wrong with you?" she admonished herself.

Her bed didn't seem all that inviting and instead she reached for her dressing gown, wrapping herself tightly in it before heading into the kitchen, turning the living room light and TV on the way. The light and noise made her feel a little better.

She started making herself a coffee, knowing that she would not sleep tonight anyway. The TV was showing some late night talk show and she listened half heartedly while she waited for the coffee machine to work its magic.

The sudden sound of her phone ringing made her jump. For a moment she stared at it, her heart beat pounding dangerously in her ears, too afraid to answer. Tentatively she moved toward the receiver and picked it up, bringing it slowly to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked hesitantly.

Nothing. There was no answer. No sound at all.

"Who is this?" She felt her pulse start to quicken even more.

Silence.

"Look why don't you go bother someone else," she tried hard to maintain her composure, but her voice cracked despite her best efforts.

"But it looks so cosy up there," the voice on the end of the phone took her by surprise and she dropped the phone in fright.

She flew into the bedroom and rummaged through her bedside drawer until she found her gun. Placing it on the bed in front of her, she picked up the clothes nearest to her, some faded denim jeans and a sweater, and threw them on as fast as she could. She grabbed the gun again and then, grabbing her keys and coat, she made a swift exit from her apartment.

With the gun hidden under her jacket, a finger on the trigger, and she carefully manoeuvred through the corridor, before sprinting to her car outside. Once inside she pushed down the locks and somehow managed to steady her hand long enough to get the keys in the ignition.

As she pushed the car into reverse and made her getaway she could swear she saw someone lurking in the shadows. One thing was for sure, she did not want to hang around long enough to find out.

* * *

Ray was tired and his back hurt. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It wasn't strictly _his_ chair really, it was Inspector Thatcher's and Ray couldn't help but smile at what she would say if she could see him now, slouching with his feet up on the desk.

He picked the phone next to him and playfully spoke into it, "Bonjour, Freak City. The Ice Queens desk," he smiled to himself, amused, and put the telephone back into its cradle. As he did so there was a ring on the front door bell of the Consulate.

Ray instinctively drew his gun from his shoulder holster as he rose and walked out of Thatcher's office towards the front door. It was the early hours of the morning and definitely a weird time for a visit.

He cautiously approached the door, throwing a look toward Fraser's office. No one emerged; the Mountie obviously hadn't heard.

Ray carefully turned the lock and put a hand on the door handle. After mentally counting to three he swung the door open and stuck his gun in the face of the person standing there.

Suzanne immediately drew the gun she had concealed in her jacket sleeve. For  
a moment they stood face to face, gun to gun, until recognition set in.

"You do that to everyone?" Suzanne dropped her gun away. She stepped inside the Consulate and carefully put the gun away in the waistband of her jeans, whilst glaring at Ray.

"You always visit people in the early hours?" Ray shot back, likewise re-holstering his gun.

"And how many criminals ring a doorbell first?" she countered.

Ray had to concede she had a point, but he chose to ignore it and took a different tact, "You wanna tell me what you're doing with that?" he gestured with his hand toward her gun.

"It's Chicago. It is three am. It's dark out. I'm on my own. What do you think I'm doing with it?" Suzanne continued to stare at him, defiant," And yes..." she added, "I have a licence for it."

Ray narrowed his eyes at her for moment, but was satisfied with the answer, "Is this a social call?" he turned and walked back towards Thatcher's office.

Suzanne wasn't sure what to say. She'd sat outside the Consulate in her car for the last thirty minutes, growing increasingly anxious. She couldn't go home again. The decision to go inside hadn't been an easy one.

"No...I couldn't sleep," she answered eventually. It was mostly the truth.

Ray gave her an unreadable look and then perched on the edge of Thatcher's desk.

Suzanne continued before he had chance to say anything, "Did Detectives Huey and Dewey come up with anything from the photo?"

Ray shook his head, "Ah no. One or two people thought he looked familiar, a few more said they'd seen him on stage and one guy thought he was Elvis."

Suzanne tried and failed to suppress a smile, which she thought was Ray's intention. She took her gun out from her waistband and put it on the desk before taking the chair in front.

Ray studied her, "And you? You still don't remember him?"

Suzanne noted the way Ray put an emphasis on _still._

"No," she shook her head, watching Ray all the time, "I can't place his face, I know I've seen him but I don't know where."

Ray was eying her suspiciously, "You seem pretty pally with Calding?"

Suzanne was unsure of the change in the conversation, but clear that their earlier conversation had done nothing to allay his suspicions of her.

"He has a business based in Chicago, I've dealt with him on a number of occasions. I don't think that qualifies us as pals. We don't exactly move in the same circles, " she was unsure of what Ray was getting at.

Ray seemed to mull over what she said for a moment, "So what were you arguing over?"

"Arguing?"

"Back at the station."

It took Suzanne took a few seconds to realise what Ray was talking about, "You were listening?"

Ray dropped his gaze; she took his lack of an answer as answer enough.

She stood up from her chair and walked toward the filing cabinet at the back of the room resting her hands on the top briefly and then turning to give Ray a hard stare.

"What gave you the right, Detective, to eavesdrop on a private conversation?" she was mad and she didn't care if he knew it, "We had a reasonable expectation of privacy. You realise that I could inform the Chicago PD that you violated the rights of a suspect?"

Ray nodded, "You could do that," he answered quietly.

Suzanne took a few deep breaths and turned away again to calm herself. She realised that it wasn't really Ray she was angry at. He wouldn't be the first cop who had eavesdropped on an interview room, and certainly not the last either. Besides, it wasn't as if they were sharing world secrets. No, she was mad at herself for a whole number of reasons; especially for her inability to admit the truth.

When she turned back to face Ray the anger had dissipated somewhat and she continued, calmer and trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, "Why don't you just say it?"

Ray looked up at her, "Say what?" he asked although he clearly knew exactly what she meant.

"That you believe I was involved in Carters murder somehow. That you think I'm... what? Having an affair with Calding? And that Carter was blackmailing us?" she fixed her stare at him. Daring him.

"Your words," he answered simply, shrugging.

Suzanne closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head, "Well, if that's what you think, Detective, then I should ask for someone else to take on his case. I can't represent Calding if I'm a murder suspect."

Ray started to answer only to be interrupted by Fraser's sudden appearance at the door. The Mountie had evidently just woken up and was dressed in red long johns and nothing else.

"Ray, I thought I heard-" Fraser began before spotting Suzanne and hastily moving to conceal himself behind the doorframe, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had company."

Suzanne smiled at him, grabbed her gun again and began to walk toward the door, "It's ok, Constable. I was just leaving."

"Where are you going?" Ray shot at her as she walked to the door.

"Am I under arrest?" Suzanne turned to face him and spread her arms wide in gesture. When Ray didn't answer she continued, "Well, then it's none of your business."

She nodded her goodnight to Fraser and made her exit.

The cold wind wrapped around her immediately and the light from the streetlamps wasn't enough to stop the dark set in like a blanket. Suzanne could feel her heart beat start to accelerate and for one horrifying moment she couldn't remember where to find her car. Shadows moved from every side as she quickened her pace over the road. As she finally saw the car, a veil of tears and panic descended and she struggled with the lock, dropping her keys. Suzanne began willing herself to calm down, to take control, to open the damn door.

* * *

Ray sat in silence for about a minute before grabbing his coat and following Suzanne in a hurry, leaving his partner with no explanation at all.

"Suzanne!" He shouted toward the figure across the road, struggling with keys in a car door.

She either ignored him or didn't hear and he bounded over the road towards her, "Suzanne," he tried again, reaching out to catch her by the arm. She hit out at him as he did so, clearly frightened and not expecting him, "Hey, it's me," he pulled his hand away, not wanting to frighten her further.

For a moment she stood looking at him but not really seeing him, tears streaming down her face and a look of wild panic in her eyes.

Ray tried again, "It's just me," he reassured her, and was surprised when she finally took a step towards him and almost collapsed in his arms. Ray wrapped his arms around her reflexively.

It was clear that she hadn't been expecting it to be him approaching her, so who had she expected exactly? And why was she so frightened? Her breath was coming ragged and fast as she fought to calm down, but she made no effort to move away from him and Ray allowed himself a moment to enjoy the feeling, all the while knowing he shouldn't be.

Eventually he had to ask her, "What's going on?"

The answer took a moment and when she did reply, the sound was muffled by his coat, "Would you believe me if I said I'm scared of the dark?"

"Nope. Not you," Ray smiled.

* * *

Ray gently sat Suzanne down in the seat she had not long vacated and pulled a chair up next to her. She wiped away the tears furiously with her hands, the panic and fear being replaced very quickly by embarrassment.

She never had a panic attack before, but she was sure that was what just happened. She just wished it hadn't happened where anyone could see.

That moment that Ray had grabbed her arm she was certain he was someone else. She was sure, just for a moment, that his face was someone else's. The relief when she had realised it was him was overwhelming, although falling into his arms was now a touch embarrassing, if not unpleasant.

As Fraser handed her a cup of hot coffee, she knew that she now owed both of them an explanation.

"I took the liberty of adding a little of Turnball's rum to it. For medicinal value," Fraser soft voice pulled Suzanne out of her daze.

He'd had also taken the opportunity to change his clothes and was now wearing jeans and a red check shirt. It suited the handsome Mountie as much as his uniform did.

"Thank you," she more mouthed the words than said them as she took a sip of the coffee and let the warmth of the rum make a trail from her throat right down to her stomach. It felt good and the sensation started to ground her.

She exhaled slowly and tried to regain a little dignity. It wasn't easy with Ray so close by and watching her like a hawk. Almost as if he sensed what she was feeling, he got up and sat back down behind Thatcher's desk, giving her the space she needed.

Eventually she felt she could talk, "I haven't been entirely truthful with you," she started.

Ray's gaze fell to the floor and Suzanne caught the movement, "Not in the way you think, Ray," they shared a momentary eye contact before she continued, "I guess these phone calls have me more on edge than I'd care to admit."

"Phone calls?" Fraser furrowed his brow as he perched on the edge of the desk to the side of her.

Suzanne shifted in her chair and cleared her throat, "Like the ones I told you about before, when we were at Carters apartment. Except..." she paused, "...except it hasn't just happened a few times. It's been happening for a few months."

Neither Ray nor Fraser interrupted or questioned, they just continued to listen, the expressions on their faces neutral. She was glad for that.

"I'll pick up the phone and there'll just be silence. At first it was maybe once a week and I did put it down to kids mucking around. I told the phone company and changed my number, but the calls didn't stop. Then about a month ago the calls started to be every day. At home, at work, on my cell phone. It's got to the point that I almost wait for it. I had a call today at the station and at my apartment before I came here tonight..."

Ray shifted in his chair and Suzanne knew he'd realised why she had come to the Consulate tonight in the first place.

She continued, "Except this time he spoke, and I think he was watching me."

"He?" Fraser asked.

"The voice was distorted, but I'm fairly sure it was male."

"What did he say?" Ray leant forward in his chair, his blue eyes searching hers.

"Not much. He gave me the impression he was watching my apartment," She shuddered again at the thought, "And I've had this vague feeling someone has been watching me for weeks," She explained, "I thought I was just being ridiculous. And then...those photos..."

Her voice faltered and Ray jumped in, "You think your mystery caller took the photos?"

Suzanne stood up and walked toward the window, avoiding his gaze. She was afraid that she would start to cry again, "I don't know," she pulled the curtain slightly and looked out the window. It was a delay tactic while she composed herself.

Eventually she turned back around, "I'm sorry. I should have told you this already. It just all sounded so stupid in my head. There was no proof of anything, just my vague feeling and those phonecalls," she looked back up at them, feeling in better control, "But you have to admit it's a hell of a coincidence, isn't it? I start getting the calls and then those photos turn up at a murder victim's apartment. A murder I'm dealing with," she took another deep breath and drew herself up to full height. The panic attack had all but disappeared now.

"Maybe he saw another chance to spook you," Ray seemed to continue the train of thought she hadn't voiced.

"Exactly," she nodded before taking her seat again, "I'm sorry," Suzanne felt she needed to apologise again, "I guess this guy just has me far more spooked than I care to admit."

"Understandably," Fraser noted and Suzanne was grateful for his understanding.

"I just need some sleep," she rubbed her forehead. She had all but forgotten her tiredness but it was creeping up again, "I haven't slept properly in a while."

"You shouldn't go home," Ray got up and stepped forward, "Just in case."

"You're most welcome to stay here," Fraser offered, "I assure you nothing will happen while you are under the protection of Detective Vecchio and myself."

Suzanne looked from Fraser to Ray, "I'm not going to argue," she held her hands up in mock surrender.

Fraser excused himself to go find some extra blankets, leaving her with Ray.

"I think he just likes having sleepovers," Ray gestured towards Fraser after he'd left the room, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Suzanne couldn't help but chuckle, "Who doesn't?" she answered before realising what she'd said.

Ray looked away uncomfortably and they stood in awkward silence before she realised she needed to say something about earlier.

"I'm sorry about..." she hesitated, unsure how to word it, "...outside," she opted for vagueness, "I didn't mean to..."

Ray shrugged with a smile, "Hey, I'm a cuddly sort of guy."

"...lash out at you," Suzanne finished the sentence. She felt herself flush slightly, "I meant when I..."

"Oh right," Ray cleared his throat, "Well...I'm the kinda guy people like to do that to as well."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Suzanne had slept fitfully for the few remaining hours of the night. Fraser had offered her his office and crib to sleep in, which had made her feel guilty but also grateful. She'd left the door open, feeling better for not being shut off, and had noticed that Ray had checked on her at least twice. She was grateful. His and Fraser's presence had afforded her a slight but precious piece of mind.

Fraser's sudden appearance at the door to his office made her jump out of her reverie.

The Mountie looked apologetic, "I'm sorry."

Suzanne smiled, "No, it's me. I'm not usually quite so jumpy."

"I'm sure anyone in your position would feel the same," Fraser tried to make her feel better.

Suzanne nodded, "Maybe."

"You don't think so?" he asked, clearly curious at her answer.

She rose from the edge of the desk, where she'd been sitting, and wandered toward the window, "I don't know, Fraser-" She suddenly turned toward him, changing the subject. "You know, _Fraser_ seems so formal, doesn't anyone ever call you Benton?"

Fraser squinted, "Rarely."

"Would Ben be ok?" she ventured.

Fraser nodded, "That would be fine."

"Pitter patter let's get at 'er," Ray suddenly interrupted from the doorway, "We gotta get going. Frannie has the photos back from the developers."

Suzanne stood, grabbed her stuff and followed Ray out the door, squeezing Frasers arm as she went.

* * *

"She's in trouble," His father suddenly appeared by Fraser's side.

"Yes," Fraser answered him, "And I think she might know who it is."

* * *

Fraser caught up with Ray and Suzanne outside the Consulate, where they were  
talking to Detectives Huey and Dewey. Fraser caught the tail end of Dewey's question.

"So, Big Ben. That's the clock thing right?"

Suzanne smiled like she had heard the question a million times, "It's the nickname, yes," she answered patiently.

"So have you met her?" Dewey continued.

"Big Ben?" Suzanne answered politely, looking confused.

"The Queen."

Suzanne went to answer but Huey jumped in before she had the chance.

"That is such a dumb question."

"Why?" Dewey replied defensively.

"You think everyone in England has met the Queen? Have you ever met the President?" Huey countered.

"No," Dewey answered in a tone that implied Huey was the one asking dumb questions now.

"Well then."

"But England's not as big as the US."

Huey rolled his eyes.

"Actually..." Suzanne quickly chimed in, probably keen to end the conversation, "Yes, I have."

Huey looked at Suzanne and raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"See?" Dewey poked Huey in the ribs, before smiling at Suzanne and heading into the Consulate.

Huey followed him, the two men bickering all the way.

Ray shook himself out of the apparent coma he had fallen into and headed toward the car, Suzanne and Fraser just behind.

* * *

Suzanne's heart was racing again by the time they reached the police station, but she forced herself to remain calm. No matter what those photos revealed she was not going to allow herself another _episod_ e like last nights.

They headed straight for Frannie's desk, where she was waiting, "What took you so long?"

"Traffic, Frannie. The photos?" Ray got straight to the point.

"Here," Frannie handed over an envelope.

Suzanne stood well back from the action waiting for a reaction.

Frannie continued talking as Ray began to undo the packet, "Most of them were just shots of some building. Some of them are quite good actually..." Frannie coughed, "Anyway... it was only when I got to the last few…" her sentence trailed off, "I got those ones enlarged."

Ray studied the photos and Suzanne studied Ray. His brow had wrinkled but his expression was unreadable.

"Thanks. Good job," he remarked to Frannie, as she walked away to answer her ringing phone.

Ray handed the photos over to Fraser, and Suzanne moved to study them over his shoulder, her heart filled with dread. As soon as she saw them she took a deep breath in. They weren't quite what she was expected at all.

"Hey, Ray! Phone call," Frannie called over from her desk.

* * *

"You were having an affair," Ray slammed the photos down on the table in front of Calding, who took one look at them and raised a hand to his mouth, "And Carter was blackmailing you."

Calding had lied, but Ray wasn't taking much comfort in being right at the moment. Neither was he in a particularly diplomatic mood.

Calding's attorney, a small man with large glasses, stepped in, "What proof do you have of that?

Ray glared at him, "Other than these photos, you mean?" he gestured to the table and watched the lawyer shrink back in his chair. He turned his attention back to Calding. "Maybe you'd like to change your statement?"

Calding put his hands on the table in front of him, but didn't look up. "I was having a relationship-"

"With your secretary," Ray continued for him, just managing to stop himself rolling his eyes at the cliché.

"Yes," Calding paused, clearly annoyed, "With my secretary."

Again his lawyer interrupted, "I would advise you to say nothing further."

Calding simply looked at his counsel resignedly.

"You didn't think it might be important to tell us about that?" Ray's sarcasm shone through despite himself.

"I didn't…I _don't_ want my wife to find out."

"Oh, I'll bet you don't," Ray answered snidely, before walking around the table, "How much?"

"How much?" Calding repeated apparently unsure of what he was being asked.

"Well, I'll bet Carter wasn't keeping quiet out of the goodness of his heart," Ray made the question clear.

Calding squirmed in his chair, "$500 dollars a month."

"I _knew_ it." Ray couldn't stop himself looking over at Fraser and Suzanne who were stood quietly in the corner of the room, watching the scene unfold.

"So what...? You decided it was too much. Decided that Carter had had all the money he was going to get?" Ray put his hands on the table, leant down and shoved his face near Calding's.

Calding looked positively grey, "I didn't kill him. It's true I'm not sorry to see him dead, but I did not kill him."

"Oh right!" Ray emphasised, "You lied about knowing Carter, you lied about being blackmailed, and I'm supposed to believe you now?"

Calding looked helplessly toward Suzanne, "Is he allowed to speak to me like that?"

Suzanne held Calding's eye, but spoke to Ray, "Detective?"

"Oh, this?" Ray continued, ignoring her, "This is nothing. If you don't start talkin' I'll-"

Suzanne spoke again, loudly, stopping Ray in his tracks, "May I talk to Lord Calding alone?"

Ray kept his gaze on Calding for longer than was comfortable for the suspect, before finally pushing away from the table and gesturing toward Fraser, "Let's go."

He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge Suzanne right now.

* * *

Suzanne took a seat opposite Calding. He began to speak but she stopped him with a hand, looking towards his lawyer.

"Alone," she glared, making it very clear that no was not an option.

Once the man had left, she turned again to Calding. She was aware that Ray might well be listening from the room next door, but she wasn't worried about him hearing.

Nevertheless, she kept her voice low, "It isn't my job to judge you. I am only here to ensure you understand what is happening. But holding back the truth isn't doing you any favours and it certainly makes my job harder. You say you didn't kill him, I believe that. But you lied and now you have a motive. The police will pursue that. I don't think you appreciate the trouble you are in here. An affair will blow over, it'll be yesterdays news in a week. A murder charge? Well that won't be so easily swept under the carpet."

Suzanne rose from her chair, "I suggest you give your statement again, and _THIS_ time include everything."

She pulled the door open to exit when Calding finally spoke again, "My wife?"

"Sir, I think your wife finding out is the least of your problems right now."

* * *

Suzanne found Fraser and Ray waiting outside the interview room. As soon as she left the room she saw Ray give a cursory nod at a uniformed officer, who immediately moved to stand outside the interview room door.

"Well?" Ray jumped in.

"Well what?" Suzanne countered, unsure of his demeanour.

"You get what you need?" the look Ray gave her showed none of the concern from yesterday. It was hard and cold.

Suzanne looked toward Fraser who was stood close by, looking very uncomfortable, "Do you mind if-"

"Not at all," Fraser didn't even give Suzanne a chance to finish her sentence before he disappeared toward the Squad Room in a hurry. Dief gave a whine in Suzanne's general direction before following the Mountie.

She turned her attention back to Ray, "Is there somewhere we could talk?"

Ray pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, and walked over to hold the door to the second interview room open for her. She glanced at him as she walked past, but he kept his gaze firmly lowered.

She waited until he had closed the door and they were both alone before she turned back to him and spoke again, "What's going on, Ray?"

"Why don't you tell me?" he replied coolly, now holding her gaze but standing across the room from her.

Suzanne could see she was going to get nowhere like this, "Ok," she said matter of factly before taking a seat, hands resting on the tabletop, "Let's just get this over with, shall we? Question me," she indicated to the table in front of her.

"What?" she had Ray's attention now.

Suzanne ignored his question, "Where was I on the night of the murder?" she paused for effect, "At home," another pause, "Can anyone verify that?" Pause, "No, I was alone."

Ray finally walked over to the table and held up a hand to stop her, "You're a cop."

Suzanne almost laughed, "Well one of us needs to be!"

"No," he stood looking down at her from the other side of the table, " _You're_ a cop."

Suzanne sighed.

So this was the conversation she was going to have to have now, " _Was_ ," she emphasised, not looking at him, " _Was._ Not now. But I see you've run a background check on me."

So that's what the phone call was about. It made sense now.

Ray at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable as he pushed back from the table to stand by the mirror, "You didn't think it was worth mentioning?"

Suzanne held her hands out, "How is it even relevant?" when Ray said nothing, she continued, "Seriously? _That's_ why you're being like this? Because you're mad I didn't mention being a cop in a previous life?"

"It's relevant," Ray shot back, though he didn't much look like he believed it.

Suzanne shook her head, "Oh don't do that, Ray."

"What?"

"The _cop thing_ ," she clarified, "The whole I don't like other cops encroaching on my territory thing."

"It's not that," Ray still sounded sullen, but his demeanour had thawed a little.

"Isn't it?" Suzanne beseeched him, "Look..." she looked down at the table again, "I was a Detective. In London. But I left and now I'm in Chicago working for the British Consulate. I can write down my life story, if you want, but it's still not going to sort the main issue, is it? You don't trust me."

* * *

Ray was beginning to forget why he was so irate.

Running the background check on Suzanne had been a mistake. He knew that now. He'd only done it because there was a feeling that he just couldn't shake. When all that had been revealed was that she was an ex-cop it seemed reason enough to believe his hunch was right. She hadn't told him she was. Standing here now, looking at Suzanne sat at the table, he realised how ridiculous it was.

Ray held her gaze and suddenly it wasn't Suzanne Harrison sitting there at all, it was Luanne Russell. The woman he'd mistakenly convinced himself was guilty and a woman who hadn't been exactly forgiving when her innocence was proven. Ray couldn't blame her either. Fraser had tried to warn him and he hadn't listened. It was just what he did; if anyone showed an interest, they automatically had something wrong with them, because other it couldn't be anything else.

Ray could see this was another make or break point. Either he trusted her and she turned out to be guilty, in which case he'd probably lose his job, or he held her in suspicion and she was innocent, and then he'd lose any chance he ever had.

"Ray?"

He realised belatedly that he'd been staring at her but saying nothing, and now Suzanne was looking at him quizzically.

He looked away down to the floor, unsure what to do next. Eventually he settled for walking over to the table and sitting down opposite her. Suzanne clearly took this to mean that he intended to question her as a suspect.

"Do I need a lawyer?" she asked him with less warmth in her tone.

"No," he answered quickly, studying the table intently, "No... you don't. I... uh..."

"I get it," Suzanne stopped him from saying anything further and he looked back up at her as she continued, "I do. You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. Photos of me turn up in connection to a crime scene and you..." her sentence drifted off before she continued, "I'd probably make the same leap," she paused, "As a detective."

Ray nodded at her, "And as a human being?" he ventured.

Suzanne smiled and Ray found himself glad to see it, "Well, that's an entirely different question, isn't it?" she leant forward across the table, "Look, I can be replaced. The Consulate can send another representative for Calding. I don't need to be here. I'll give a statement and step down-"

Ray held his hand up to stop her. He looked her in the eye, as confidently as he could muster, and try as he might he just couldn't see guilt there. There was something there, something she was holding back, but he just couldn't be sure what it was.

He took a deep breath, decision made, a leap of faith, "We're good."

Suzanne looked as if she was trying to work out if he was being truthful, "We're good?"

"Yeah."

Suzanne nodded, "Ok," she looked like she was going to say more, but they were interrupted by a knock at the interview room door, before Fraser carefully pushed it open.

He looked like he could sense the previous atmosphere which was now defrosting rapidly. "Everything ok?"

Ray stood up and walked over to him, "Great." he indicated to a book Fraser was holding in his hand, "Found anything?"

Fraser held up the book like he'd forgotten he was holding it, "Oh nothing. I confess I'm just intrigued as to the involvement of a chess book," It was the same book as they'd found at the hotel crime scene.

"Involvement?" Ray echoed, "Fraser it's a book. So, Carter played chess? Lots of people do, including me and Detective Harrison over there," he gestured toward Suzanne with humour; feeling much more at ease.

Suzanne stood suddenly at his words, causing both Ray and Fraser to look over her. Her brow was furrowed, "He called me Detective," she said abruptly.

"I was just kidding around-"

"No, no, not you," she clarified, walking over towards them, "The phone caller. He called me Detective and I never even picked up on it."

"Who in Chicago knows about your past profession?" Fraser questioned immediately. Ray had filled him in on his discovery whilst Suzanne was speaking with Calding earlier.

Suzanne looked to the ceiling thinking, "My colleagues at the Consulate, but I would have a hard time thinking it was one of them. And apart from that, just both of you."

Ray made a face, "And anyone could find that information with a phone call," he paused to shift uncomfortably, looking briefly towards Suzanne, "I did."

Fraser and Suzanne both stared at him.

Ray distractedly rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable at the attention, "It's...ah...standard procedure to...um...check the credentials of witnesses."

Suzanne looked at him with amusement, obviously enjoying his discomfort."But I'm not a witness."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ray put the phone back on Frannie's desk and turned to Fraser and Suzanne, "That was Huey. We got a go on Mr Architect. His name's Joseph Abbott. Someone on the South Side recognised him."

Frannie took her feet off the desk and began to type without having to be asked and Ray placed the notepad with all the information he had got from Huey beside her.

"Whoa," Frannie stated as the information she was searching for appeared on screen, "Your guy's got quite the rap sheet."

Suzanne stared at the computer screen as Abbott's long list of wrongdoings popped up.

Frannie began to reel them off, "Joseph Abbott. AKA John Clark, AKA Robert Bennett. Two counts of Assault. Robbery. Arson. Disturbance of the peace."

Ray raised his eyebrows, "Upstanding citizen of the year."

Frannie continued, "This is old stuff though. We're talking years ago."

Fraser stepped forward to point at the photo of Abbott onscreen, "That explains why his photo didn't flag up."

Suzanne could clearly see that the photo of Abbott onscreen was of a very young man.

Ray nodded toward her, "Still think you recognise him?"

She stared at Abbotts image and then down to composite on Frannie's desk, willing herself to remember. She shook her head slowly. "I don't know there's just something…"

Her attention drifted off as she watched an officer walk across the other side of the squad room with a paper bag of groceries. The image shook loose a memory and it slammed into her; a memory of a man walking down the corridor with her apartment block, carrying a similar bag.

"Oh God."

"What is it?" Fraser asked looking concerned.

"I think he lives in my apartment block."

* * *

"Can I help you?"

Ray jumped at the voice behind him and instinctively drew his gun into the face of the person who'd spoken.

"No, no!" Suzanne quickly jumped in and pushed the gun away. She discreetly made a face at Ray as he reholstered the gun and whispered at him. "Seriously?" before continuing more loudly, "This is Vincent Linetti, the landlord."

"Mind if I ask what's going on, Suzanne?" the landlord eyed Ray warily.

She, Ray and Fraser were stood outside the door to what Suzanne thought was Abbott's apartment. She knew most of the residents of the block, with the exception of a currently empty flat and whoever lived here. It had been a process of deduction.

Ray stepped forward again, this time flashing his ID, "Detective Vecchio, Chicago PD. Where's Abbott?"

Vincent looked from Ray to Suzanne and then back again, "Abbott?"

This time Suzanne made sure she answered before Ray could, "This man..." she gestured as Fraser held up a picture of Abbott for Vincent to see, "...we believe he rents this apartment."

Vincent nodded, "Yeah. Name wasn't Abbott though. His name was Lucas. He left last night. A week in arrears too."

"Do you know where he went?" Fraser questioned.

Vincent squinted, "Are you a Mountie?"

"Yes," Fraser answered.

Vincent looked him up and down, but didn't question further.

Suzanne cut in again, "It's important we find him Vincent, he's involved in a murder enquiry."

Vincent held his hands up, "I don't know anything about that. You can't afford to be fussy with tenants..." he gestured towards Suzanne, "Present company excluded."

"Do you know where he is or not?" Ray raised his voice, evidently getting impatient.

Vincent shook his head, "Nah. Like I said, he walked out this morning. He didn't give notice, just upped and left."

"Can we take a look in the apartment?" Suzanne gestured towards the door.

"Yeah, sure," Vincent stepped forward as he took a bunch of keys off his belt hook and unlocked the door," Not sure there's much point though, it's empty. Just rubbish left. I took a couple bags of personal stuff down to my place in case he comes back for it."

Fraser nodded at Ray, before speaking to Vincent, "May I look through those affects?"

Vincent open his arms wide, "For all I care. People can be so ungrateful. You give them a chance—"

"OK! You can go," Ray interrupted before he could say anything further.

Suzanne watched Vincent walk away muttering, Fraser in tow. She waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to Ray, "Do you think you could be just a bit less..." she paused trying to find the right word, "...abrasive? I have to live here."

"Hey," Ray looked wounded, "I'm not abrasive. I'm to the point. Clock's ticking."

Suzanne raised her eyebrows at him disbelievingly, while he retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and proceeded to call in about Abbott.

While Ray was busy on the phone Suzanne decided to do a little digging of her own and walked into the apartment, taking a good look around.

The landlord was right; it was virtually empty and full of dust to boot. The furniture had been left behind, but nothing personal.

She walked over to a chest of drawers one side of the room and rummaged through them one by one. Most of them were full of rubbish, various papers and candy wrappers. With nothing jumping out, she swung around and started examining the shelves behind her. She couldn't find anything out of the ordinary there either. Next she turned her attention to the kitchen, but every cupboard and drawer was empty.

As she stood staring blankly at the shelves in front of her, she didn't hear Ray walk up behind her.

"Find anything?"

The sudden sound of his voice made her spin around, hand on heart. "Jesus." She muttered under her breath, more angry at her own jumpiness than at Ray. She answered him quickly to cover up, "No, nothing."

Ray was beginning to perfect his concerned look. He'd clearly seen how edgy she was. When he spoke, it was with a low quiet tone, "Look, they have the airports and roads out of Chicago covered. If Abbott tries to leave, they'll find him."

Suzanne tried to smile, "And if he's already gone?"

Ray went to open his mouth and the closed it again. He knew she was a detective now. He knew she'd know that if Abbott had already left Chicago, it was going to take a miracle to find him.

He fixed her with a confident stare, "I put out an APB. Cops from here to California will be looking for him."

She nodded at him, less from any belief in his words and more to make him feel better, and then turned her attention back to the room in front of her.

Something made her look in the direction of the built in shelves at the end of the room again and as she stared she noticed a gap underneath them.

Her movement made Ray take notice of them too, "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Suzanne walked forward, crouched down and extended her hand as far under the shelves as she could. Her fingertips brushed against something, but her reach was just a fraction too short and the object remained unmoved. She turned her head up to look at Ray, "Do you have longer arms?"

Ray looked like he was going to object at first, but moved to hunker down beside her.

"Ah...I can't," Ray began as he stretched his arm as far as he could without popping it out of its socket.

"Wait a minute..." Suzanne stood back up and walked over to one of the kitchen cupboards.

She grabbed the broom she'd previously spotted and strode back over to Ray with it.

"It might work," Ray shrugged and took the broom from her. He started fishing under the shelves. "Nope," he stated about five seconds later when it became apparent that it was not going to work either.

"If you lie on the floor you might get a better angle," Suzanne suggested.

"On this floor?" Ray looked down at the dirt and dust lining the room like a carpet, "Are you kidding me?"

Suzanne let a smile play on her lips, "It might be important," she stated with the best ' _doe eyed lady in distress'_ face she could muster.

He crumbled as she hoped and began to mumble as he lowered himself onto the floor, "If this turns out to be a dead rat..." again, he began fishing about with the broom handle, knocking himself on the head with the other end, "Ouch!"

Suzanne stifled a laugh.

"It's no good. I can't see a thing."

"Hang on," Suzanne moved around and reluctantly got down on the floor to the side, in such a way that she could guide the broom handle.

Ray smiled slyly.

"Don't even say it," She warned him, "Okay. Forward."

Ray complied with the instructions.

"No, no... too far. Back a bit." She tried to direct him. "To the left..." Ray moved it right, "I said LEFT."

"Your left or my left?"

She gave him a look of disbelief, "There's a difference?"

"Got it!" Ray exclaimed in trumph a few seconds later, holding up a small book of some kind. They both stood up, covered in dust and dirt, "Remind me never to work with you again, " Ray began, "I thought Fraser was bad enough."

Suzanne smiled as she took the book from Ray's hand and looked it over. It was a bank book with Abbott's name on it. Ray looked over her shoulder as she flipped through the pages, a hand on her arm whilst doing so.

"Well this interesting," Suzanne stated.

"We should go find Fraser," Ray agreed.

Suzanne nodded, "But first, my apartment is a floor up."

Ray raised his eyebrows and Suzanne indicated to the dust on her clothes, "I need to change, " she clarified, before pointing to Ray clothes, "and it has a sink," she finished.

* * *

Fraser hadn't found anything of interest in Abbott's personal affects and had made his way back to the car, to meet Ray and Suzanne. They weren't back when he arrived and he let himself into Ray's car and sat in the passenger seat trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

He was so deep in thought he didn't see his father in the back seat, "You're missing something, Son."

Fraser jumped, "Dad how many times have I told you not to do that?"

His father looked dejected, "I'm only trying to help."

"By giving me a heart attack?" Fraser shot back.

"There's no history of weak hearts in our family."

Fraser finally turned to look at his father with annoyance, "Dad, I don't wish to be rude, and it's not that I don't enjoy these little talks, but now isn't really convenient."

Fraser Senior looked visibly hurt, "Well, if you don't want my help you only have to say so."

"I just did."

"There's no need to be like that. It's not my fault you can't figure this one out."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Well look at you. You're floundering."

"I am not," Fraser replied indignant.

"Two days you've had and you haven't even solved a part of it yet. What with that young woman obviously in need of help and you're not even off the starting blocks. No, it's a poor show."

Fraser didn't know whether to laugh or cry, "That's a bit harsh isn't it? I mean we haven't exactly-"

"I mean take that book," his father continued, talking over him, "It's the biggest clue you have and you haven't even figured it out yet."

"Have you?"

His father shook his head, "Doesn't matter, son. I'm dead. It's you we're talking about."

"I really think that-" Fraser began before he saw Ray and Suzanne approach and stopped.

He opened the car door quickly and stood to join them on the sidewalk. He couldn't help but notice that Ray was covered in a liberal sprinkling of grime and Suzanne had changed her clothing, but before he could open his mouth to ask what had happened Ray held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't ask."

Suzanne was holding something in her hand.

"What did you find?" Fraser enquired.

She handed the book over to him, "It's Abbott's bank book. No very interesting in itself, but if you look at the deposits..."

Fraser could quite clearly see for himself, "Three deposits of a $1000 within a week of each other."

Ray chimed in, "And you're not telling me he earned that legally."

Fraser shook his head. "I imagine not."

"Let's go," Ray suddenly headed for the driver's door, "We gotta stop by my  
apartment first."

* * *

"Anybody else feel like a human yo-yo?" Suzanne quipped as she, Fraser and Ray walked through the squad room doors for what seemed like the hundredth time in. They headed once more for Frannie's desk, only to find it empty.

"Anyone seen Frannie?" Ray called out to the squad room in general. His question was met by general mumbles, but no actual answer, so Ray slumped down in Frannie's chair and began to type on the computer while Fraser stood behind and Suzanne looked over his shoulder.

As Ray began to key in details, Suzanne looked up and saw Frannie approaching. "Ray," she tugged on his, now clean, sleeve to alert him.

Frannie was tagged closely by Dief who seemed to be demolishing the last of what had been a jelly donut, "Hey! Hands off my desk, blockhead," Frannie swiped at Ray to move him from her chair as he deftly ducked.

Once Ray had moved, she took her seat leaned forward at the desk and looked up adoringly at Fraser.

"Hi, Frase."

"Francesca." Fraser replied carefully and politely.

"Can I help?" she battered her eyelids.

"As a matter of fact..." Fraser stumbled over his words and Suzanne could sense Fraser was having trouble dealing with Frannie's attentions.

She stepped in, "We need to find out about the deposits made into this bank account."

Suzanne handed the bankbook to Frannie, "Can you trace the account numbers?"

Frannie took the book and absent mindedly flipped through the pages, "Sure. No problem." With no further comment she rose from her desk again, handed Ray a piece of paper and headed toward the door taking the book with her.

Fraser discreetly lent in to Suzanne and muttered a, "Thank you," from the corner of his mouth.

Suzanne whispered back just as quietly, "You often have to dodge Francesca's attention?"

Fraser shook his head, "You have no idea," as Suzanne tried and failed to suppress a smile.

Ray, who had been quietly studying the report Frannie had handed him, looked up abruptly,

"I need a coffee."

"I second that motion," Suzanne commented and proceeded to follow Ray and Fraser toward the lunchroom.

Huey and Dewey were the only people in the lunchroom and Suzanne caught the tail end of their conversation as she entered the room behind Fraser and Ray.

"...I'm telling you," Dewey spoke excitedly.

"You've got to be kidding. Cheddar is a much better cheese," Huey answered him.

"Yeah, but it has no flavour. Now, Stilton that's the way to go."

"Oh, please." Huey answered exasperated.

"Hey, Fraser." Dewey suddenly turned his attention to the Mountie, "Which is better Cheddar or Stilton?"

Fraser seemed to mull the question over, "Well, I'm not sure I'm qualified to judge. Much of the cheese I ate as child was home-made by the Inuit families and had a much more distinct flavour. In fact..." Fraser chuckled, "It was well known that you could tell which family had made the cheese by its flavour. Many a food poisoning case was solved in such a way."

Dewey pointed at Huey, "Now home-made cheese, that's the one."

Huey got up infuriated and headed out the door Dewey still chasing him and talking.

Fraser turned back as Ray shook his head at him, "We're in the middle of a complicated case and you're talkin' 'bout cheese?"

Fraser made a gesture, "Cheese is always an interesting subject, Ray."

Ray looked as if he was about to reply when Frannie appeared at the doorway and motioned for his presence. Shaking his head at Fraser, he handed Suzanne the cup of coffee he had poured for himself and followed Frannie back out of the room.

Once Ray had left Suzanne gestured to the coffee in her hand in offer to Fraser.

"I'm fine, thank you," he refused politely.

She nodded and took a seat at the nearest table.

"You know we will find him," Fraser said suddenly taking the seat opposite her.

She nodded, "I'm sure Calding will be relieved when we find the real killer."

"I was referring to the man who appears to be stalking you. The man you are worrying about," Fraser corrected her.

Suzanne looked him straight in the eye in surprise, "You don't think they are one in the same?"

Fraser shook his head, "I'm not sure you do."

Suzanne couldn't help but sigh, "I'm not sure what I think anymore," she answered absently rubbing her temple. Her head throbbed from headache that seemed to be a permanent presence lately.

Fraser placed his hat on the table in front of him and lent forward slightly in his chair. When she looked up at him he said nothing and she could sense he was waiting for her to speak.

She was reluctant to pursue her thoughts out in the open, but something in Fraser's searching and honest eyes made her feel that she could.

She swung her body round until she sat square at the table, put her palms flat on the surface and lowered her voice, "Four years ago my partner and I were investigating a man named Henry Sheldon. He was a well known business man. We all knew he had several high standing politicians in his pocket, but we also had sketchy evidence connecting him with at least two murders," she paused, the memories weren't pleasant to recall, "Sheldon was clever, he knew how to work the system, and it took us months of hard work to finally get him. But we did. The day he was arrested he was livid, he broke the jaw of the police officer who tried to put him in the car. It took four officers just to keep him under control and all the while he kept swearing revenge on what he called 'a set up'. He accused David..." she stumbled involuntarily over his name and then corrected herself, "Detective Coleman that is, my partner, of planting evidence and made claims of police corruption."

"Those claims were believed?" Fraser looked puzzled.

Suzanne made a face at him, remembering the madness of the situation, "Everybody in the unit knew that David was a straight cop, but somehow Sheldon managed to kick up enough of a fuss to get the Police Complaints Authority interested. He claimed David harnessed a grudge against him and that he'd used his position within the police to plant evidence linking Sheldon to murders he didn't commit."

Fraser looked down at the table briefly, then back up at her, "What happened?"

"You know what it's like once the press get involved. Things got out of hand. Before we knew it they were hounding David. He had to send his wife and children away for safety. I was implicated. Then Sheldon presented documents proving he was framed and David was suspended pending further investigation," She faltered again, her voice breaking despite her best effort, "I guess it just got too much for him. His job and reputation were on the line and Sheldon seemed to have everyone eating out of his hand. The day we were both due to appear in court was the day I found him..." Suzanne let the sentence hang unable to finish it, even after all the time that had passed.

Fraser nodded at her ever so slightly and when she looked at him she realised he understood what she was saying without her needing to clarify.

She leant back in her chair and sighed, "I was so angry with him. For giving up, for not fighting..." she hated the next part,"...and for leaving me to deal with it alone," she shook her head at her own selfishness, "How could I think that?"

Fraser shook his head, "I can understand why you might feel that way."

She silently cursed him for being so understanding, but continued talking so she didn't have to dwell on it, "In the end, Sheldon was exonerated of all involvement, and I was cleared when they found a note in David's possession in which he'd confessed to everything," she huffed an ironic laugh, "of course it was all lies. So, he was buried with a tarnish on his name as a dirty cop and I became obsessed with nailing Sheldon to the wall. I knew that I couldn't get him on the murder charges, but I also knew damn well that it wasn't the only crime he'd committed. I was careful, I took my time, and eventually he made a small mistake. He was charged with extortion and fraud. It wasn't much, but it was something. He got three years. Not nearly what he deserved, not nearly enough, but..." the sentence didn't need an end, "The day they took him from the court he whispered in my ear that he wasn't done with me."

Fraser seemed to gauge the situation before continuing, "You think that Sheldon is the one behind the calls?"

"I don't know," she began "but the look on his face, Ben. The tone of his voice. It's not something I will likely forget. I thought I had left it behind when I came here but..." she leant forward again, "He drove a well-liked and respected detective to suicide and laughed about it."

"You were good friends?" Fraser spoke of her partner gently.

Suzanne smiled, "Yeah. He was a good man."

"I take it Sheldon's on out on probation?"

She nodded, "Yes. I didn't know until a few days ago. Up until then, I had managed to convince myself that I was just being stupid. Now I don't know what to think."

"You know Ray could've checked-" Fraser began before Suzanne cut him off.

"I know, but I still have friends in the Met. He's checked in with his probation officer, on time, every month since he has been released. He hasn't been flagged up at any airport or port. He is not in Chicago," she rose from the table and wandered toward the vending machines. "I have no proof..."

"And yet you still think it's him."

Suzanne stood looking at Fraser, "What I think and whats real are two completely different things. He spooked me. Now I'm jumping at shadows."

Fraser raised a hand to his eyebrow, "Logically, as you say, it doesn't make sense it's him personally, but could he have hired someone?"

"I thought of that too," she confirmed to him, "And it's possible. He's a man of means, it's not inconceivable that he could have hired Abbott to take the photos or to move into my building to keep an eye on me. But Sheldon likes to get up close and personal, if nothing else I learnt that. Those murders? They weren't committed by a third party and besides..." she looked at Fraser almost pleadingly, "What has all of that got to do with Caldings case? Why were the photos at Carter's apartment?"

Fraser nodded, "All excellent questions. But maybe his intention is to make you doubt yourself, doubt your sanity," he hesitated, "Maybe he intends to drive you to suicide, as he did your partner."

Suzanne let a long slow breath out, trying to stay calm, "You know, I was having a better time thinking I was crazy. At least I only had to fear myself."

"We have bigger problems," Ray's sudden appearance at the doorway made Suzanne jump. He gestured to the piece of paper he held in his hands, "I just took a message for you. They found Sheldon's parole officer dead this morning."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"You heard all that?" Suzanne risked a sideways look at Ray as they made their way back to his desk.

"I'm a Detective, it's my job to pay attention."

Suzanne couldn't help but smile, "So you eavesdropped?"

Ray tilted his head, keeping his walking pace. "Totally... um... valid policing method."

As they finally reached the squad room, Suzanne felt the need to say something, "Look, Ray, I'm sorry that I-"

Ray stopped walking and turned to her, cutting her off, "Nah, look, I know..." he gestured at Fraser, who look confused, "...he has an honest face. Women can't help offloading on him."

Suzanne wasn't sure if she could read the look on his face or not. He didn't seem annoyed, just sort of resigned.

"Even so," she conceded, "This is..." she faltered, before looking Ray square in the eye, "It's just really difficult. I wasn't sure..."

Ray nodded and put a hand on the small of her back to guide her the last few paces to his desk, "I get it."

They reached their destination and Ray took his hand back to flick open the file on his desk, "OK. According to the Met, the parole officer..."

"Probation," Suzanne corrected him without really thinking, "It's probation officer in the UK, not—" she stopped herself before continuing quickly, "Sorry. Doesn't matter, carry on."

Ray narrowed his eyes at her for a second, but there was no malice in it, "So the _probation_ officer was found this morning but the M.E. thinks the time of death was... er," he checked the paper in front of him,"...2 days ago. He was found at Sheldon's home, so I guess he...what? Got in the way?"

Fraser mulled it over, "You think he was trying to stop Sheldon leaving?"

Suzanne nodded and picked up the folder from in front of Ray. "That would definitely be my guess." The file contained the police report and she scanned it through, "It's odd though. It's not like Sheldon to be so careless. He left evidence everywhere."

"Yeah," Ray agreed, "Fingerprints, murder weapon, the whole package. They could put him away on the physical evidence alone."

Fraser shifted his weight, "They have to find him first."

"Yeah, well smart move, harassing the cop who arrested you," Ray chimed in, "And they seem to think he's still in the UK."

"Hmmm..." was all Fraser offered in return.

"My thoughts exactly," Ray pointed at Fraser before continuing. "So how we gonna find him?"

Suzanne glanced at Ray, "I think he'll find me."

A few days ago she almost managed to convince herself that she was simply losing her mind, allowing ghosts to invade her reality. Now her worst fear was a distinct reality and yet, she felt an eerie sense of calm at the moment.

Fraser turned to her, "There's a Consulate Ball tonight, is that correct?"

"Er... yeah," Suzanne nodded, not quite sure of Fraser's point.

"And you'll be there?" he questioned.

Suddenly Suzanne did not like where this conversation was going, "I'm supposed to be. Why? You think Sheldon will be there?"

"I think Sheldon will make his move soon and the ball seems as good as time as any."

"You gotta be kidding, Fraser," Ray started, "You really think he's going to risk it in front of all those people?"

Suzanne thought about it for a moment, "I think Ben's right, Ray. Hiding in plain sight, and all that."

"It would provide us with an opportunity," Fraser said simply and Suzanne nodded slowly in understanding.

Ray looked from one to the other, clearly realising what they were thinking, "Nah. I don't like this. It's too risky."

"What choice do I have?" Suzanne turned to him.

" _We..._ " Ray stressed, "...we have a choice. This guy might be setting up a trap, which you know about, but you're still gonna walk right into it? Come on! It makes no sense."

Fraser rejoined the conversation, "But because we know, we now have the advantage."

"Realising that Sheldon probably knows that we know," Suzanne replied.

Fraser nodded, "Of course."

Ray looked at both in a deep state of confusion, before shaking his head, "OK. You're going do this we're gonna have the whole of the Chicago PD casing the joint."

Ray reached for his telephone and picked up the receiver before Fraser stopped him. "We can't do that, Ray."

"Why not?"

"Because if Sheldon sees, it's unlikely he'll make a move."

Ray looked at his partner, "And that's a bad thing...?"

"For us, yes."

"And, for Suzanne?" Ray retorted.

"Well it would seem to be necessary," Fraser rubbed his eyebrow again.

"Necessary?" Ray sounded annoyed, "You want put Suzanne's life in danger so you can collect some Mountie points?" he gesticulated.

"I don't want to put anyone's life in danger, Ray," Fraser stated simply.

Ray's annoyance was in full flow, "I don't know what they taught you up in Canadian Mountie school, Fraser, but there we don't just give madmen whatever they want."

"Ray, you're just being unreasonable-"

"I'm being-"

Suzanne cut them both off once she could stand it no longer, "I'm standing right here!"

They both at least looked apologetic.

She turned toward Ray first and laid a gentle hand on Ray's forearm as he perched on the end of the desk.

"I appreciate your concern, Ray, I really do. But Ben is right. If Sheldon doesn't make his move tonight he will make it one day, this way at least I have some control over the situation. I can be ready. Besides..." she added. "I have you and Fraser."

Ray backed down nodding.

Suzanne turned back to Fraser, who had busied himself reading the notice board. "I need to talk to Calding. I'll meet you and Ray by the door in an hour?"

Once Suzanne had left the room, Ray turned to Fraser apologetically, "Sorry, I didn't mean..." he started awkwardly

Fraser waved it off, "There's no need to apologise, Ray. I do share your concerns. But this is our best chance to keep Suzanne safe."

"Yeah, I know," Ray let his head drop down. He had to agree, though he wasn't happy about the idea of using Suzanne as bait. These plans never seemed to work out well and he had special reason not to want this going the same way. If he had his way he'd have the place surrounded by riot squads, but he had to admit that Fraser was right about that too; Sheldon wouldn't show his face if he knew he was surrounded.

Ray looked up again just in time to see Stella walking purposely toward his desk, a determined scowl on her face. He picked up a file, stood up and started to move forward before she reached him.

"Ray-" she began sharply.

"Not now, Stella, I'm working," he told her curtly before walking off.

He only wished he could have turned around to see the look on her face, but the best he could do was imagine.

* * *

Fraser had insisted on walking to the British Consulate, claiming that the cool evening air would help sharpen his senses. Ray however had insisted on sticking by Suzanne's side and, for once, she wasn't going to argue. The first stop was Ray's apartment.

"It's kinda... um... messy," Ray apologised as he turned the key in the lock, "I... er...haven't had time to clean up," he stood back and held the door open for her.

"Don't worry about it," she reassured him. To be honest the state of Ray's living quarters was not foremost on her mind right now.

Ray swept past her as she stood just inside the doorway and quickly removed various articles of clothing from the sofa, and something from a lamp, "Make yourself...comfortable," he gestured to the space he had made, "You want coffee or something?"

"No I'm good, thanks." Suzanne took a seat and smiled.

Ray paused momentarily, "Ok. I'll just be... a few minutes," he made his way to the bedroom and with one last look at her closed the door behind him.

Suzanne looked around at her surroundings. It wasn't that bad. In fact, apart from a pile of washing up by the sink and a few items of clothing draped over the chair, it was pretty tidy.

Unable to sit still she stood up and wandered around the room, surprised to find herself staring at a turtle. She cautiously approached the tank and watched the animal slowly munching on a leaf in the corner.

An almighty crash from the direction of the bedroom made her turn around and cautiously approach the bedroom door. She gently knocked on it, "Ray? You okay?"

"Yeah... I'm fine," came the muffled reply.

She shrugged and stepped away from the door again, her eye catching a photo on the side. Reaching for it automatically, she bought it closer to see properly. The man in the photo was definitely Ray, albeit a younger version, and the woman looked very familiar. It took her a second to recognise Stella. It was a wedding photo.

Suzanne heard the door click behind her and quickly put the photo down, knowing Ray had already seen her. She turned around to face him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just-" she paused abruptly, realising he was wearing a Tux, "—prying," she finished absently.

Damn, he looked good.

Ray appeared distinctly uncomfortable, but said nothing. Knowing she had no right in asking, Suzanne felt curious all the same, "You and Stella are?... were?...married?"

* * *

Ray's brain was screaming at him.

How could he be such an idiot? Why the hell didn't he think to remove the goddamn photo? How hadn't he stopped to think of the implications of bringing Suzanne back to his appartment. What if she found out he wasn't Vecchio?

"Were," he finally managed to stutter out and then more confidently, "Were. Not now-"

"I guess that explains the..."

Ray nodded, "Ah, yeah," he wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about but he guessed it was Stella's tone in Welsh's office.

To her credit Suzanne seemed to sense that he didn't want to talk about it, "You scrub up well, Detective," she changed the subject, gesturing towards his suit.

Ray felt awkward. He hadn't worn the Tux in years, it really wasn't his thing, "It's kinda..." he gestured to his outfit.

Suzanne waved it off, "No, no. It's fine. You look good."

It was an off-hand remark, but Ray couldn't help but take it to heart. For a moment they said nothing and just stood looking at each other.

"So, we should..." Suzanne kept eye contact while gesturing to the door with her hand.

"Yeah. I guess we should," Ray agreed, though it was the very last thing he wanted to do. He walked over and opened the front door for her.

Suzanne stopped as she got just outside the door, "What's the turtle called?"

Ray shut the door behind them, "Turtle."

* * *

Fraser reached the British Consulate early as planned. The British Consul, Edward Garrett, was awaiting his arrival just as Suzanne had told him. Fraser spotted him pacing nervously in the entrance hall.

As he and Dief approached, Garrett looked up to greet them, "Ah, Constable Fraser I presume?" the older man began.

"Yes, Sir. Pleased to meet you in person," Fraser gave his best diplomatic smile as he shook hands.

"I wish I could say the same, Constable, but under the circumstances..." the Consul looked solemn.

Fraser nodded gravely.

"So what exactly do you need us to do?" Garrett looked up at Fraser expectantly.

"Nothing, Sir."

Garrett looked surprised, "Nothing?"

Fraser shook his head, "No, Sir."

Garrett regarded Fraser silently for a moment, "I presume then the police will be arriving soon?"

"Well, if by that you mean Detective Vecchio, then yes."

The Consul made a silent gesture, "Will there be many in his team?"

Fraser opened his mouth to reply, shut it again and then finally settled on, "Two, Sir."

"Two?"

Fraser shifted, "Ah, yes. Myself and..." he paused.

"And?" Garrett encouraged him to finish.

Fraser looked down at Diefenbaker, who wined and put in head on his paws in contempt.

"Well you are," Fraser told him firmly.

"The dog...?" Garrett evidently couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"He's a wolf actually," Fraser tried to deflect the situation.

Garrett looked at Fraser, down at Dief, and then back at Fraser, "A wolf? So you're telling me that a senior member of my staff is being protected from a potential homicidal maniac by one Chicago Detective, a Canadian Mountie and his wolf?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Why not throw in a horse? Make it a full set," Garrett muttered, before continuing, "Well, if there's anything you should need, I'll be in my office."

Fraser called after him, "Thank you kindly, Sir" and then looked down at Dief, who let out a sigh, "It's no good being like that. You are part of a team, you have to pull your weight."

Dief lifted his head and barked at him.

"It was your own fault. I would have thought you knew it was inevitable. You can't wallow, just because you've been ill, you have a duty."

Again Dief barked at Fraser and turned his head away in disgust.

Fraser pulled his tunic straight, "That was different."

This time the wolf walked off in the direction of the door.

"I was shot!" Fraser called after him.

* * *

As the GTO pulled up outside the British Consulate, the uneasy feeling in the pit of Suzanne's stomach grew to a crescendo.

This was a bad idea.

This was a very bad idea.

Ray turned the engine off and leant forward to observe the bustle outside the Consulate doors.

"Looks like everybody's here already," he noted.

Suzanne nodded, "Yeah. The Consulate parties have quite the reputation."

Now there's a bonus piece of information Ray didn't want or need to know, she told herself. Get a grip.

She didn't make a move to leave the car. Fear holding her firmly in the passenger seat.

Ray glanced over at her, undoubtedly sensing her unease, "You okay?" he asked and then instantly chastised himself, "Sorry. Stupid question."

She peered out the front window at the people milling about, all dressed in their finest, "It's just strange thinking he could be in there," she admitted, "You know I worked so many cases, dealt with bad people, saw things no person ever really wants to see, but nothing and nobody... ever got to me as much as that man."

Ray watched her silently for a moment before telling her quietly, "You don't have to do this."

Suzanne turned to look at him, as she fiddled nervously with her purse, "Yes I do," she answered just as quietly, "This might be the only chance we have to catch him."

Ray shook his head, "He's bound to make a mistake sooner or later. We'd find him."

Suzanne tried to smile, "Yeah, and meanwhile I go out of my mind, jumping at shadows."

Ray let his head hang with a resigned sigh. He had to know she was right. It could take months, years even, track him down.

The silence hung in the air for a few minutes before Suzanne spoke again, "It's not really that I'm frightened of him," she began, simply feeling the need to talk, "I'm just frightened of what he can do. In a few short months I saw David turn from a confident and talented investigator, to someone obsessed with nailing Sheldon and then to a hollow shell of a man who ended his own life," Suzanne took a deep breath, trying to hide the shaking in her hands, "Look how crazy he has me acting already? I don't want to end up like that. And it will happen. He has that ability."

Ray held her gaze for a few heartbeats before he spoke, "Fraser has the place cased and I'm one call away from back up. Huey and Dewey are just around the block."

Suzanne nodded slowly, grateful for his reassurance and understanding of how necessary the risk was. She took a deep breath, "Right. Okay. Lets do this," she finally stepped out from the car, as Ray did the same.

As they made their way over to the Consultant steps she willed her heart-rate to drop. She stopped short of the entrance to smooth down her dress and turned to Ray, "How do I look?"

* * *

The Consulate was crowded. Bursts of laughter and music drifted across the main hall like clouds. Everywhere Suzanne looked there was a swarm of people enjoying the evening, totally unaware of the fear that was pulsing through her veins.

The Chilean Ambassador threw her head back in laughter at a joke cracked by the American representative and the movement caught Suzanne's eye as she moved through the crowd.

She was aware of Ray, still by her side, as she strained her eyes to catch sight of Fraser's red tunic. Another burst of laughter resonated loudly from behind her and she spun around.

For one horrible second she thought she saw him. A second later the image was gone again, but the sound of the party was now dulled by the resonance of her own quickening heartbeat, which seemed to pound in her ears.

Ray leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Over there," he raised his hand out to point to a spot just to the left of her and she caught sight of Fraser.

She nodded at Ray and began to push her way through the crowd once more.

Once they had reached the edge of the room where Fraser was standing the crowd thinned out a little and the music wasn't quite so loud. Standing between Fraser and Ray, Suzanne felt her heart slow a little and gradually the pounding in her head subsided.

"Anything?" Ray nodded toward his partner.

Fraser shook his head.

Suzanne thought about telling them she had seen Sheldon in the crowd but now she was sure she had imagined it and kept quiet.

The three of them stood for a while watching the gathered throng.

No one looked twice at Fraser or Ray. The Consultant ball attracted guests from all over, so the presence of a man in a tuxedo, or even one in Red Serge, was nothing of note. They had to hope that Sheldon would feel the same, assuming Fraser and Ray to just be ordinary guests of the Consul.

Every now and then Suzanne would nod a polite hello to various guests, her eyes still darting nervously about the room. Her brain saw Sheldon everywhere.

* * *

Ray watched the people on the dance floor and stood there thinking for a good few minutes. This wasn't remotely the best time in the world to ask, but he asked anyway.

"Would you like to dance?"

Suzanne smiled, but her answer was distracted, "I can't dance."

He took her hand to get her attention, "Sure you can. Besides, doesn't it look obvious if we all just...stand here like lemons?"

"I have two left feet," she was looking at him now and Ray wasn't sure she realised her fingers were entwining in his.

He made a decision and pulled her towards the dance floor as she started to protest.

"It's easy," he smiled as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

Suzanne gave in, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Just follow me," he encouraged her.

Ray began to move in time to the music and found Suzanne staring at her feet as they danced. Regardless, she still managed to step on his toe.

"Sorry, sorry," she smiled sheepishly, "See?"

"Stop concentrating so hard," Ray told her by way of instruction as they began once more.

Again she looked down at the floor, but this time Ray put his hand under her chin and lifted her gaze to his, "Just listen to the music."

Suzanne kept her head up and closed her eyes, as he moved his head next to hers so they were ear to ear. Slowly Ray began to guide her around the dance floor, keeping the steps simple and keeping her close.

Ray loved to dance and had done since he was a kid. It was something he and Stella had shared in their years together, but Stella had been as good at it as he was. This felt different. Suzanne's steps were tentative and uncertain, whereas Stella was sure footed and confident. But there was something incredibly thrilling about dancing with Suzanne.

Ray had never been in control with Stella in any shape or form. She'd never relied on him for anything, or needed him in any way. And although he wasn't the kind of man it bothered, he couldn't deny the warm feeling he got from simply being the one leading the way in this particular dance.

Suzanne was smart, she was capable, and given what he'd seen from her background check, she'd been a damn good police officer too. But right here, right now, she needed him.

Suzanne followed him, allowing him to choose the path through the crowd on the dance floor, letting him take the lead. Ray hardly noticed the other people, his face was so close to hers, he could feel her breath on his skin. Her warm body leaning onto his. He had an overwhelming urge to kiss her and a feeling that she just might feel the same.

Unfortunately, Fraser's frantic arm waving to grab his attention, put pay to those thoughts instantly.

He watched Fraser speed towards the main staircase in pursuit of whomever or whatever he had seen.

Ray quickly whispered to Suzanne, "Stay right here," before sprinting off after Fraser scattering guests in all directions.

* * *

Suzanne watched Ray and Fraser fly up the main staircase at lightning speed. She started to follow them, but something other than Ray's soft words held her back.

The music paused and then started again, as she made her way to the edge of the dance floor, retrieving her purse from the table, where she had left it.

She sensed the hand on her arm before she felt it.

Her mind cried out as the unmistakable metal of a gun pressed against the small of her back, but somehow she managed to keep herself quiet.

"Shall we go for a walk?" a harsh voice whispered in her ear.

It was Sheldon. She knew without even having to see his face.

Suzanne desperately tried to free herself from his grip but the more she tried to struggle the tighter his hand clenched her forearm.

"Now, now, you wouldn't want to frighten all these people would you?" the voice whispered again, the threat clear.

She knew there was no way to escape him here. If she tried to run there was nothing to stop him firing into the crowded room. Her police training took over; she could not let innocent people get hurt. She allowed him to guide her from the hall, desperately trying to figure a way out and willing Ray or Fraser to reappear.

Sheldon knew exactly where he was taking her, without fault he pushed her toward the back entrance of the building and the dimly lit alley behind the consulate.

Her mind started to race, as she realised where they were headed. If she shouted, he would likely shoot her, if she struggled, he would likely shoot her. She saw no other choice but to comply with his instructions and hope it gave her enough time to figure something out, or chance for Ray and Fraser to find her.

She spotted a car at the end of the alley, its engine running. Waiting.

It was then that she realised that she was still clutching her purse. Holding it against her body with her free arm, she twisted her hand to undo the catch and grasped desperately for the bottle small of perfume she had placed in it earlier. They were nearing the car. She was running out of time. As she grabbed the perfume bottle the purse fell from the grip of her arm and scattered her belongings all over the floor.

Sheldon looked briefly behind him at the mess and it was all the distraction Suzanne needed to spray both him and herself with a coating of perfume and then let the bottle drop to the ground. As the gun came into contact with the back of her head, everything went black.

* * *

Fraser had seen a man with a gun. He was sure of that, but stopping briefly on the landing he began to doubt his own eyesight. He heard Ray arrive behind him; slightly out of breath from his dash up the stairs.

"You saw him, right?" Ray gasped.

Fraser nodded, "I saw someone. Yes."

"Someone?" Ray gave him a look as he went to the left and began to check in the rooms one by one, gun firmly in hand.

"He had a gun," Fraser called to him as he went right.

The first two rooms were clear, but Fraser was sure that there was nowhere to go from this floor. He had to be somewhere.

As he opened the door to the next room and stepped inside his lightning quick reflexes caught the gun before it made contact with his head, twisting it out from the owner's grip.

Surprised, his attacker threw his whole body weight at the Mountie in an attempt to throw him off balance. The move backfired when Fraser calmly stepped out of his way and his opponent crashed headfirst into the wall, knocking himself unconscious.

Ray came running as Fraser crouched down to turn the man over to get a good look.

"Abbott," Fraser told him by way of explanation.

A look of realisation struck Ray with horror, "Suzanne."

* * *

Ray flew at great speed down the staircase, missing several steps in a row in his hurry. He scanned the room as he went, seeing no sign of Suzanne, not even a flash of her blue dress through the crowd. Distraught he pushed through to the place he'd last seen her, not caring whose toes he stood on. There was no sign. She was gone. And his heart was racing dangerously fast.

After a few seconds, he felt Fraser tugging at his arm and directing him toward the back of the room.

It was once they had reached the alley that they heard Dief's determined barks. It was obvious the wolf was trying to get their attention. Sprinting to him at the end of the alley, Fraser bent down to see what Dief had found, as Ray surveyed the contents of Suzanne's purse scattered on alley floor with desperation in his heart.

"He's got her," he breathed, horrified.

He watched as Fraser removed his gloves from his belt and carefully picked up the remains of a perfume bottle. Fraser nodded as he brought the bottle up for Ray to see, "But we can find her."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Suzanne awoke with the worst headache of her life.

It took her a few moments to adjust to her surroundings as she realised she was lying on a cold stone floor in what looked like a disused warehouse. For a precious few seconds she forgot that Sheldon had knocked her out cold, but as the memory rushed in her pulse quickened and she pulled herself upright, only to find that one of her ankles was tethered to a metal roof support.

Putting a hand to her throbbing head she took a good look around. If there was an obvious way out, she certainly couldn't see it, or Sheldon either, for that matter.

She made herself take a couple of deep breaths. The worst had happened, now she needed to think clearly. The professional, clinical mind took its rightful place. An eerie calmness engulfing her brain as experience and training kicked in.

Clasping both hands around chain that held her ankle, she tried shaking it. It remained steadfast, as she knew it would. The chain itself wasn't very thick, but there was no way she could break it with her bare hands. She scanned the floor around her, but knew Sheldon would have taken care to remove any chance of escape.

It was then she saw the padlock. Sheldon had positioned it behind the support and out of her immediate reach. She sat back down on the floor and tried wiggling the chain in an effort to move the padlock closer. Obviously, it was not going to be that easy. Reaching as far forward as she could she grasped for it. The only way she could get hold of it with both hands was when it was behind the support and then she couldn't see it.

 _'Alright,'_ she told herself, _'We'll have to do this blind.'_

Taking care to look around for Sheldon before she began, she carefully removed a hair grip from her hair, thanking God that she'd decided to wear it up that evening. Reaching forward toward the padlock and support again, she tried to get the pin in position into the lock.

"Still as determined as ever I see," Sheldon's low gravelly voice made Suzanne jump and she dropped the pin to the floor.

A wave of panic threatened to overtake her newfound control, but she refused to let it.

She slowly stood up again and turned to face him, "I'm sorry," her voice dripped with fake self-assurance, "Am I just supposed to roll over and die?"

Sheldon laughed as he stood across the room from her, casually leaning on an upturned crate, "I very much doubt it'll be that easy with you."

Suzanne felt her fear replaced by anger, but she kept both emotions away from her face. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a rise. She took a deep breath in.

"You really expect to get away with this?" Even in the cirumstances the corniness of the words threatened to make her laugh.

Sheldon continued to watch her, a half grin on his face, "Well of course I do. You really think I'd go to all this trouble if I didn't?"

Suzanne leant on the support behind her, "Why are you doing this?" she glared at him. "You'd done your time, you were home free."

"Oh I like to settle my scores. I thought you understood that."

He wanted her to be scared and she was not going to give him the pleasure.

"You kill me, they'll find you."

He sneered, "You mean your Mountie friend? Or maybe the cop?"

Suzanne tried not to flinch at the mention of Fraser and Ray.

Sheldon continued as he started to walk towards her, "But you'd prefer the cop, wouldn't you? Tell me..." he gestured, "...just what is it about him you find so fascinating?" Sheldon paced in front of her, "Because, you know, I would have thought that Constable Fraser would be more up your street."

Suzanne knew all this. She knew it well. Her and her partners investigation had revealed that Sheldon was almost obsessive about his victims. Be it fraud or murder. He learnt everything there was no know. He watched. He missed nothing. Sheldon was calculated.

All of which meant that there was something didn't fit.

"The parole Officer?" she asked, avoiding his barbs about Ray.

Sheldon's expression changed, it was a tiny movement, utterly fleeting, but Suzanne caught it.

He made the pretence of mulling the question over, "Accidents happen." he answered finally.

"Not to you," she replied deliberately quietly.

Something about her statement made him simmer. A rage seemed to bubble beneath the surface as he glared at her.

"What's the matter?" she began deliberately inflaming him now, "Did something not quite go to plan?"

Without warning Sheldon punched an empty oil can toward her, it narrowly missed, but the distraction meant she didn't see him leave the room.

She was alone again.

"Yeah well, get used to it," she muttered under her breath, "I don't intend to die today."

Slowly she removed the padlock she'd already managed to unlock.

* * *

Fraser was crouched down, his nose close to the pavement and Ray stood behind him making a face. "He's Canadian," he told onlookers by way of explanation as they peered at the Mountie crouched on the pavement with confusion.

"Well?" Ray shot the question at Fraser. Right now, he didn't have the time or inclination to argue with Fraser's rather unorthodox methods. They had to find Suzanne.

Fraser appeared to consult with Diefenbaker before he turned back to his partner.

"This way," he said with a certainty that would have convinced even the hardest sceptic.

As they began to move through the crowded streets again, Dief scouted way ahead of them, his nose permanently to the ground. The Wolf stopped abruptly at the beginning of an alley off the main road and began to bark frantically. With one last look toward Fraser he bounded forward and disappeared behind the alley wall.

Fraser and Ray sprinted to catch up to what Dief had found and as they rounded the corner they saw the car.

Without missing a beat Ray pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialled almost automatically.

"We found the car," he spoke solemnly.

Fraser rubbed the dirt off the licence plate so Ray could get a clear look.

"Sierra Yankee Echo 532," He told the officer on the other end of the phone, as he turned his attention back to Fraser, "Anything?"

Fraser carried on examining the car, "Suzanne was here," he carefully held up an earring for Ray to see.

The sight of it made panic well up in him and Ray was glad when a voice began to speak in his ear again.

"Damn!" Ray almost smashed the phone shut.

Fraser looked over at his partner, "It was stolen?"

Ray grimaced, "This morning."

He took the few steps that closed the distance between him and Fraser and peered over the Mountie's shoulder to glimpse inside the car.

"She put it there right? She's trying to lead us to her," Ray tried to convince himself.

"Doubtful," Fraser backed out of the car suddenly almost knocking Ray over, "I think Suzanne was unconscious.".

"How'd you figure that?"

"There's blood on the back seat."

"Blood?" Ray felt stricken but Fraser held his hand up to calm him.

"Not much. The quantity would be consistent with a head injury, possibly a blow with a blunt object, probably a gun."

Ray didn't blink, "If you're trying to make me feel better, Fraser, that's not the way to do  
it."

"I'm certain that Suzanne is fine."

Ray wasn't convinced; there was a lump in his throat.

"She is a police officer," Fraser continued, "She's been trained to deal with situations such as this."

It was then that Diefenbaker started to bark and growl frantically and they both moved in unison to see what the wolf had found now.

Attached to the underside of the bumper was a device. It had wires and a timer, and it was about to go off.

* * *

In her haste to rid herself of the chain around her ankle, Suzanne hadn't even noticed the trickle of blood on her forehead. Ripping at the hem of her dress, she managed to get enough material to wipe the wound. Her head still pounded but she couldn't worry about it now.

She got to her feet again and took another look around. The windows, such as they were, had been covered with some kind of boarding, with a gap at the very top which was letting in enough light to be able to see. There was one obvious door, right at the back of the room, but any others were blocked from sight by discarded crates and furniture, and there was another level above her, which only covered half the room and seemed to be accessible by a nearby ladder. At the back there appeared to be some offices on an even higher level.

Suzanne didn't move far from the support straight away. She didn't know where Sheldon might be, but she knew he'd be watching, waiting to see what she would do next. She didn't want to reveal that she'd freed herself from the chain, not just yet.

She could make a run for the door, but it was never going to be that easy. Sheldon was not about to make a stupid mistake like that. The upper level would likely be a dead end and then she'd be backed into a corner.

She stood as tall as she could and, turning in a circle to address the room, she called to her captor.

"Now what? You have me here, just the way you wanted. So what happens next in this sick little game of yours?" With every word she felt some strength return, "Sheldon? I know you're listening."

"Oh, it's not a game," his voice echoed back.

She strained trying to hear where the sound was coming from, but his voice bounced around the empty room, "Monopoly is a game, Football is a game, and Chess... yes... chess is a game."

"I don't understand," Suzanne called back, as she very slowly started moving towards the door. Wherever Sheldon was, he was not behind that door.

"No. And that's the shame of it. I was sure you would."

Suzanne tried to keep him talking to gage his location, as she inched forward little by little, "Then maybe I'm not as clever as you give me credit for."

Sheldon seemed to think it over, "No. I just don't think you want to remember."

Suzanne was genuinely confused, "Remember what?"

"The book," Sheldon answered quickly in a voice that resonated from directly behind her.

"Maybe you should fill her in, Sheldon," Fraser's authoritative voice suddenly echoed from the balcony of the next level and Suzanne felt a huge surge of relief wash over her as she spotted him above her.

He nodded at her.

"How did you...?" Sheldon began evidently surprised.

Fraser stood stock-still, "I very nearly didn't."

Suzanne looked closely at Fraser's face and could see was bleeding, her heart began to beat faster again.

A movement caught her attention as Sheldon moved out from his hiding place and pointed a gun at the Mountie. Fraser didn't flinch.

"And the cop?" Sheldon asked firmly.

Fraser dropped his head briefly, before looking back up again, "He didn't make it."

Sheldon let a slow cruel laugh as Suzanne cried out and dropped back against the wall.

' _No. No. No.'_ All the fight when out of her in an instant. _'Not again. Not again.'_

Sheldon' voice was muffled in her head as she struggled to concentrate.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I don't think that's true, Mr Sheldon," Fraser stared straight back at him, "As I don't believe you were sorry about the death of Detective Coleman either."

Sheldon's expression changed dramatically as Fraser continued.

"I'll admit it took me a while to figure it out, but then I wasn't the one who was supposed to, was I? You planned this for Suzanne. You wanted her to know the truth before you killed her too."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sheldon snarled at him.

Fraser's words had caught Suzanne's attention and she slowly pulled herself up, her back still braced on the wall behind her.

"The book?" Fraser led Sheldon.

Suzanne looked towards Sheldon and then up to Fraser.

He spoke to her directly this time his voice gentle, "Think back, Suzanne. I imagine you've attempted to bury the memory, but the book that your partner was holding in his hand when you found him..."

Suzanne put a hand to her head; every part of her felt as if it would collapse in on itself, she had to fight to stop herself from blacking out.

When she did not answer, Fraser continued, "It was a chess book. The same book we found in Carter's hotel room."

In one excruciating moment, every last piece of the puzzle fell into place with a resounding and heartbreaking thud.

"Oh God," she breathed, struggling to focus as the edges of her vision darkened.

In her mind's eye she was walking up to David's body again. He was lying prone and lifeless, gun in one hand, his face slack. She desperately felt for the pulse she knew she would not find. Through her tears she saw he book in his hand again.

She'd locked the memory of this moment away.

She looked toward Sheldon, anger welling up again. For David. For Ray.

"No-one knew about that book. You couldn't have known. Unless you were there," the volcano of fury bubbled over, "He didn't commit suicide, did he? You killed him."

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion.

As Sheldon raised his gun to Fraser and began to squeeze the trigger, the door behind Suzanne flew open, and she found herself grabbed from behind as a gun was fired over her head. Sheldon's shot went off but the bullet missed Fraser, who made a leap to the lower level, breaking his fall with a roll.

Sheldon let out a cry as a bullet tore into the shoulder of his gun arm, knocking the weapon flying. In rage and pain he charged towards Suzanne, who fought herself free of the restraining arm around her to meet him head on.

She didn't realise what she was going to do until she did it, her fist landing Sheldon square in the face and knocking him off his feet. The pain that seared through her arm brought her crashing to the floor with a cry, but as she fell she saw Sheldon slumped unconscious.

As time abruptly resumed its normal beat she felt a strong but gentle arm pulling her to her feet. She turned around expecting to see Fraser, only to be greeted instead by a blond, spiky haired cop.

"Ray," she breathed, every ounce of energy and anger drained from her body with the pure relief of seeing him still alive.

As she collapsed into his arms, nothing could stop two months, or possibly two years, worth of tears staining her cheeks.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Suzanne sat quietly at Ray's desk, rubbing the side of her head absently.

Forty eight hours had passed since Sheldon had been caught and the headache was only now beginning to fade. They'd diagnosed a minor concussion, but there wasn't any lasting damage. Her hand was another matter. She'd broken her wrist with the punch that brought Sheldon down.

She was still processing the fact that Sheldon had been responsible for David's death in a much more literal way than she'd imagined. It was no comfort to David's family, it was no comfort to anyone. It was as if the grieving process has started all over again.

If Sheldon's plans had worked out she would be dead right now too and she couldn't help but wonder how he would have spun that. Would she have been a suicide too? For that to work Sheldon would have needed to get rid of Fraser and Ray too, which is where the car bomb had come in; designed to take them both out. It wasn't Sheldon's style, in fact, it made very little sense, but Suzanne had come to realise that nothing about Sheldon made sense anymore.

A psychiatrist had declared that Sheldon was fast losing his grip on reality. His mind had started to unravel. His normally meticulous planning and detail had given way to impulse and showmanship. It explained a lot. It certainly explained what happened with his parole officer. She should have realised it. She should have known.

She lifted her head up and smiled as Fraser and Ray approached.

"How's your head?" Ray nodded at her as he took a seat on the edge of his desk, Fraser standing to the side of her.

Suzanne put a hand to her head automatically as she answered, "No lasting damage. At least not that anyone would notice anyway," she grinned.

"What happens now?"

Suzanne leant back in the chair, "The British government have petitioned to extradite Sheldon. He still faces charges for the murder of his probation officer. He'll spend the rest of his days locked away... just more likely to be a padded cell than a barred one," she signed. "It's not the closure anyone wants, but it's all we have, so..."

Fraser and Ray both nodded. They understood. She was sure of it.

"So let me just get this straight for the report..." Ray began after a moment, "Sheldon can only be charged with conspiracy in relation to Carter's murder?"

"Pretty much," Suzanne confirmed, "And as he's being extradited for murder, it's unlikely the DA will pursue it."

Ray dropped his head, "Great. All that effort and all I get left with is the paperwork."

"You win some, you lose some. And I'm personally quite glad of the effort," Suzanne squeezed his arm.

"What will happen about Detective Coleman's murder?" Fraser enquired.

"Sheldon will be charged. Thanks in no small part to you and Ray. Not only that, but in light of what's happened, the original murder cases that David and I were working on will be reopened too," she took a deep breath and continued tentatively, "Because of that... they want me back in the UK."

Rays face dropped, although he quickly tried to hide it.

"Not permanently," she added quickly, "...but likely for a while. At least until Sheldon stands trial. Besides I owe my David, his name's been smeared for far too long."

Fraser nodded.

"When do you leave?" Ray asked quietly.

She took a deep breath in again, "Tomorrow. They don't want to hang around on this one."

Ray looked down at the floor as he nodded.

"Well, it's been a pleasure working with you, Detective." Fraser smiled and held his hand out to shake hers.

Suzanne rose from the chair, "Same," she nodded, before ignoring his outstretched hand and engulfing him in a hug, "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

Fraser smiled broadly at her as she moved back, "I hope you find justice for your partner."

"I do too."

Fraser looked from Suzanne to Ray and then back again, "I need to...ah..." he pointed towards the exit, "Dief," he called the wolf to him and left Ray and Suzanne alone.

"Soooo... " Suzanne started unsure where to take the sentence.

Ray nodded, "Yeah."

She leant back on the desk next to him, "I take it I've earned your trust now?" a smile played on her lips despite her best attempt to keep a straight face.

Ray turned to her, "Look... I... er... I'm sorry."

Suzanne put a hand on his arm, "I'm just kidding."

Ray seemed to make a snap decision and quickly got to his feet, "Can we talk?"

Suzanne was unsure of the tone in Ray's voice, "I thought we were?"

"Not here." Ray answered cryptically.

* * *

Ray knew this was wrong. He knew he was breaking every rule in the book, real and imagined. He was about to risk everything. Including another man's life.

Undercover was all very well and good, but no one trained you for this part. He closed the interview door behind them and turned to Suzanne.

"Okay..." he began far more confidently than he felt.

"Ray? What's going on?" Suzanne's forehead was creased in confusion as she stood across the room.

 _Only way to say it is to say it is to say it._

"I'm not Ray," he said quietly.

Suzanne bowed her head towards him with bewilderment, "Did you hit your head?"

"I mean, I am _Ray_ , but I'm not Ray _Vecchio_ ," he kept his tone very low and walked over to turn his back turned to the mirror, hoping beyond all hope she'd copy his volume and stance.

She did, "I don't understand...?" Suzanne took a second or two to regard him, probably trying to figure out if he was joking around or having some kind of breakdown.

Ray took a breath.

 _Sink or swim_.

"Ray Vecchio is undercover."

Suzanne looked at him sideways, "So you're...?" she pointed at him.

"Not Vecchio."

"This isn't a joke?"

Ray shook his head. He held her gaze steadily.

 _Please be worth this risk. Please understand what I'm trying to do._ He willed her.

For a moment she said nothing and just continued to look at him, unreadable.

When she did speak it was almost a whisper, "That's a hell of risk you're taking, telling me."

Ray continued to hold her gaze, "I know that."

"So you're what? Covering the cover?"

"Somethin' like that."

"How does that even work? Does Fraser know? Your colleagues?" her words rushed at him before she stepped back slightly, "You know what? Don't tell me. Don't tell me anything. I shouldn't know this," she walked away from him and Ray closed his eyes.

Had he made a terrible mistake? She was a cop. She knew the code. She'd know that you didn't blow your own cover. Ever.

He felt her put an unexpected hand on his arm and opened his eyes again. She was close again, looking in him the eye, "I know what you are trying to do. I get it. You're trying to prove you trust me, but..." she hesitated, "I appreciate it, I do, but it's still _monumentally_ stupid. You know that?"

There was no malice in her voice and her question certainly didn't need an answer.

Silence fell for a moment, before she finally asked him what he knew she would, "So your name is...?"

"Ray," he smiled.

"No, no. I mean _your_ name."

Ray held out his hands, he hated this bit, "Stanley Raymond Kowalski," it felt odd, his own name on his lips, "But, I go by Ray."

"Dad a Brando fan, huh?" she grinned at him and Ray couldn't help smiling back, "Nice to meet you Stanley Kowalski," she whispered.

His name sounded better on her lips.

She was still close to him, her hand still on his arm, and when she didn't make an immediate move to leave he took the plunge and slowly moved his face to let his lips touch hers. Tentative at first, and then more confidently as she responded in kind, her hands moving to his neck, as his settled on her hips.

As they finally broke the kiss, Suzanne looked up at Ray tenderly and placed a hand on his face. Ray closed his eyes at her touch. He desperately wanted her to stay, but he knew what was coming next.

"I have to go," she told him quietly.

Ray nodded, his heart breaking.

She moved away slowly, her hand tracing its way down his arm before it slipped away and she walked towards the door.

Epilogue

Ray sat slumped on the sofa only half heartedly listening to the TV, which he'd only really turned on for background noise. He closed his eyes, leant back and let his mind drift.

Another day another lost chance.

Story of his life.

Only this one was different. Suzanne was different. He wished he'd trusted her from the very beginning and stopped his self doubts from creeping in again like they always did.

And yet, she hadn't seemed put off by his misgivings, or anything else about him in general. In fact, it had seemed quite the opposite. It gave Ray hope. Hope that one day Suzanne would be back, or at least that it was possible for someone could look through his unattractive traits and see something no one else did.

Maybe he wasn't as beyond help as he often thought. Maybe the damaged goods weren't quite so badly damaged that they couldn't be fixed.

Ray opened his eyes again and shook himself from his self pity. He got up slowly and made his way toward the bedroom to get some sleep, turning off the TV as he went.

Before he made it very far he heard a knock on the front door and wondering who the hell would call at this hour of the morning he came to the only logical conclusion.

"Fra-" Ray began as he swung open the door.

Only it wasn't Fraser standing there. It was Suzanne. Ray let his surprise creep into a smile.

"You owe me," she stated, looking serious.

Ray dropped his smile confused, "Wha-?"

Only for his smile to return when Suzanne brought her hand from behind her back to reveal a chess set.

"One game of chess. Ten dollars wasn't it?"

Ray grinned, "Fifteen."

"My flight leaves at 11am," she checked her watch, "I'd say that gives us about nine hours."

Ray threw the door open, "I'll get the coffee on."

Suzanne walked through and shrugged her coat off as she took a seat on the couch, placing the chess set on the coffee table in front of her after, "Perfect. If you win, I'll pay you your fifteen and if you lose, you drive me to the airport tomorrow morning," Suzanne stated playfully.

Ray closed the door behind her, "You know...I haven't played in a while..."

THE END

(Many huge thanks if you've read this far! I'd love to hear what you think.)


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